


This Room, And Everything In It

by CharlieDemandsCoffee



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieDemandsCoffee/pseuds/CharlieDemandsCoffee
Summary: Newt and Thomas are roommates who happen to be stuck together in their shared apartment during the COVID-19 lockdown/quarantine.Title taken from one of my favorite poems, "This Room and Everything In It" by Li-Young LeeStaying healthy and sane is part of the plan. Falling in love? Not really.Modern AU/roommates AU
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 139





	1. Breakfast for Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for subjects about quarantine/lockdown/coronavirus/COVID-19!
> 
> (Look who's back in a fandom 10 years late! It's ya boy!)
> 
> The "Oh my God, they were roommates" stuck together during quarantine AU the Maze Runner deserves. Newt/Thomas with mentions of other couples. 
> 
> My first fic in a while, and my first Maze Runner fic, so sorry if I'm rusty.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

"I miss window-shopping."

"I miss _actually_ shopping."

"I miss sitting down to eat in restaurants."

"I miss sex."

Thomas barked out a laugh at that, grinning at Newt from his upside down position on the sofa, legs sprawled across the headrest, his head hanging off the cushions. Newt's face crinkled as he joined in, his stomach heaving with laughter as he lay flat on his back on their living room rug.

Their giggles took on a hysterical note for a moment before dying down, and Thomas swallowed as he stared at the ceiling. Attempting to stave off boredom had turned their conversation from casual topics to what they missed the most now that they were spending a lot more time at home.

They had been inside their apartment for over a month and a half now, only leaving when absolutely essential. The apartment they shared wasn't cramped, with two bedrooms (though they had to share one bathroom) and an open floorplan between the living room and kitchen, but it still wasn't too roomy either.

Thomas had known Newt for pretty much his entire life, had grown up with him, but even so he hadn't really been banking on practically living on top of him for weeks on end when they moved in together a few years ago.

He and Newt had been best friends ever since Newt had confronted a kid in Thomas's class who was bullying Thomas and stolen back his crayons for him. Newt was two years older than Thomas, intimidating for the other first-grader even with his scrawny frame, so it had been an easy job. They'd been inseparable ever since.

They had even managed to get into the same college and graduate within a year of each other (Thomas had worked his ass off to graduate early. School had never been his favorite thing).

Newt had left with a degree in Public Relations that helped him get his current job as an assistant media spokesperson for a local insurance company (of all places) and secure their apartment, and Thomas, with his degree in Business Management (gotten mostly due to his parent's insistance) gathering dust in its frame on the wall while he worked at a nearby bookstore.

Moving in had been logical; they practically lived at each other's houses anyway, especially when school was out for the summer. They had mostly stayed at Newt's parents house since his father had to travel back home to London a lot for business and his mother spending her time running her dance studio. Both of them had had a permanent place at each other's dinner tables since they could remember.

When Thomas had enrolled in college and been faced with the terrifying prospect of finding some stranger to room with, he had jumped at Newt's suggestion of moving in with him. Newt had found a decent place about ten miles from campus: two bedrooms, a washer/dryer, even a tiny balcony.

It had taken them a backbreaking 24 hours to move all of Thomas's stuff in, but they had the moving truck back by the next day, and had eaten a celebratory dinner of pizza that night on the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes.

Even after they graduated, neither seemed particularly interested in moving out, so a routine had been cemented. The apartment had become home, a sanctuary. It was peaceful. Now it was beginning to feel a little like a prison.

Newt broke the silence after a moment.

"I miss The Container Store."

The genuine lament in his voice made Thomas grin again. Newt was the neat freak of the house, preferring to clean and keep everything organized, which Thomas despised.

Thomas liked to cook, and could actually manage a few decent meals without poisoning them or setting the place on fire (toast didn't count, Thomas was sure the toaster had a personal vendetta against him), so he had taken the kitchen as his domain. Newt would rather have drown himself in the toilet than cook, so it worked out well.

They had been chugging along comfortably like that when news had started breaking about some virus in China.

Thomas had brushed it off at first, thinking of the Swine Flu or Ebola and how quickly those seemed to have passed, but this one proved to be much worse. Within months businesses had shut down, restaurants, stores, and bars closing their doors, and "non-essential" workers had been laid off including both of them. People were warned not to go outside if they could help it, to keep a safe distance from each other, and to wear masks.

The virus had spread quickly, and it seemed like every day there were more people getting it or dying from it. Entire countries had shut down, everyone retreating to the safety of their homes. A gloom had settled, and an uneasy paranoia Thomas was trying very hard to shake had made a home in his gut.

He knew Newt was feeling the same way, even though he had tried to keep a brave face in the first few weeks. He had deep-cleaned, decluttered, and organized every inch of the apartment, rearranged his bedroom to make an office of sorts so he could work from home easier. He had even ordered new bedding for himself in a cheery yellow to spruce up the place, but Thomas could see his panic. Try as he might, Newt couldn't hide it from him when he had known him for so long.

As if he could hear Thomas's thoughts, Newt spoke again, his voice quiet.

"Do you think we're gonna be alright?"

Thomas craned his head back to meet Newt's gaze, his dark eyes a little scared.

Thomas swung his legs and shifted upright, leaning forward with his hands on the cushions to let the blood come back down from his head. He stared at Newt, feeling a pang of worry and sympathy at his roommate's expression.

"We're gonna survive this, we just..." Thomas began, than hesitated, clearing his throat as his voice shook, "We need to keep our heads clear, you know?"

Newt turned his head away, his hands clenching and unclenching in the gray fabric of the rug beneath him. Thomas wondered if he was consciously aware of that particular nervous tic. He had seen it a few times when Newt was stressed.

"I know. It's just...the world is a buggin' mess right now. Hard not to let it get to you. Especially when you're cooped up inside all day," Newt replied, turning back to meet Thomas's eyes.

Thomas bit his lip at that. That had to be the worst part for him, too. He missed the normalcy of going out, wandering stores or bookshops or going to the movies. Simple things he had taken for granted that were now gone. It was funny how he had never noticed them before now.

He looked at Newt's torn expression and forced a smile.

"I dunno, I could get used to this no-real-pants thing, you know? I don't think I've washed my pajama pants since this thing started."

Newt scrunched up his nose at that, giving Thomas an amused but withering look.

"That's bloody disgusting. I hope you're at least washing your balls every day."

Thomas placed a finger to his chin in mock contemplation, "Well, now, let me think when the last time was..."

Newt snorted out a laugh and reached out, swatting at Thomas's shin and missing. One glance caused them to erupt into laughter again.

"You're vile, " Newt chuckled, heaving himself into a sitting position on the rug, "But I'm starving so I'll let you in the kitchen despite your clear health violations."

"How generous of you," Thomas replied sarcastically.

He began to think of what they still had in the fridge and what he could make for dinner. He realized they were due for another trip to the store soon, which he was not looking forward to. He hated how claustrophobic his stupid mask made him feel, even if it was for safety.

Thomas got up from the sofa and padded across to the fridge, opening it and scanning various containers until he made up his mind.

"How does breakfast for dinner sound? We've still got a few eggs, and some sausages. I think we have frozen hash browns, too," he called to Newt from over his shoulder.

He was thankful they had been able to find a single, sad container of eggs the last time they had gone shopping. He privately thanked any God listening that Newt had convinced him to buy extra toilet paper before this started, too. 

"Sounds marvelous," Newt called back, his shuffling sounds and the click of their PlayStation controller signaling he was choosing a series for them to watch.

Neither of them had bothered getting cable.

Thomas busied himself with gathering ingrediants, finding that they didn't in fact have hash browns but they still had half a loaf of bread for toast instead. He had just turned to start scrambling the eggs when Newt's voice right behind him made him jump.

"I queued it up" Newt said, smirking but not commenting on Thomas's reaction, "Ready when you are."

"Awesome. I'm almost done," Thomas replied, turning back to adding cheese to his eggs and salt and pepper to Newt's. He wondered absently when he had memorized how Newt liked his eggs.

"You mind doing the toast? I swear the damn thing hates me," Thomas asked, and Newt laughed.

"Sure. Don't fancy a repeat of our first week here," Newt answered easily.

Thomas was about to say something snarky when he felt Newt brush a hand across the small of his back as he passed behind him, his fingers lingering a little. His arm came into view as he reached across to grab the loaf of bread.

Thomas had been expecting it, knew that nonverbal warnings of the "right behind you" sort where common when they were in the kitchen (useful when you were handling boiling water or sharp knives). What he didnt expect was the jolt of tingles Newt's touch left behind. Thomas's fingers stuttered and he spilled a little salt on the counter.

 _That was weird_ , Thomas thought, gathering the plates and following Newt into the living room once everything was done.

They settled next to each other on the sofa and started eating in companionable silence. Thomas watched the screen without taking in much of what was going on.

It wasn't that he and Newt never touched. They were very comfortable with each other and were quick to make contact, especially Thomas since he was definitely the hugger. Thomas was sure he was just overreacting and shook himself mentally, focusing on whatever was happening onscreen.

Newt huffed a laugh at something a character said, scooting closer without seeming to realize what he was doing, spreading his legs a little until his thigh pressed against Thomas's.

There it was again, the little trail of tingles up his leg. His stomach jolted. He shivered involuntarily.

"You cold?" Newt asked, noticing the movement.

Thomas shook his head, his mouth too full of food that he suddenly couldn't swallow to answer. What was wrong with him?

They finished their food and set the plates on the coffee table. Thomas leaned back against the headrest, trying and failing to concentrate on what the show was about. He had been way too single for way too long, he decided. Probably just desperate for any sort of human contact he could get.

His last serious relationship hadn't ended badly or anything, she had just had goals that didn't line up with Thomas's and they had parted ways before she had moved to Phoenix to pursue a big-time business job. After that was the less-serious string of casual dates, a spectacularly embarrassing failed attempt to ask their neighbor Brenda out on a date (though they did end up becoming pretty good friends because of it) and then nothing for the last few months.

"You're thinking so hard over there I can smell burning."

Thomas looked over at Newt's voice, hadn't even noticed he was being watched.

"Sorry," Thomas replied, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyes burned. He wondered how late it was, not that it mattered too much these days.

"What's on your mind?"

Thomas sighed, "Nothing, just...thinking about the last time I went on a date. Like a real one."

Newt nodded at that. Thomas watched the lights and colors of the TV reflecting off his face. Newt glanced down at Thomas's lips for just a second and then looked back at the screen.

"I think we're all feeling a bit lonely at the moment," Newt said, his voice low and strange.

"Yeah, no joke, " Thomas mumbled.

Loneliness, that's what it had to be. He was just lonely. No need to have some stupid crisis about that. Newt twisted his arm to glance at the time on his watch.

"Shall we call it a night?" he asked, getting up and setting about turning off the TV. Thomas hadn't even realized the episode had ended already. He wondered if the show was any good, making a mental note to catch up on what he had missed later.

"Yeah, I'm beat," he agreed, hauling himself up and arranging the pillows that he had smashed throughout the evening. Newt stretched his arms over his head, yawning widely, his shirt coming up and exposing his stomach a little even though it had to be a size too big for him. Thomas thought it might even have been one of his own at some point.

"Alright, night mate. Thanks for dinner. Don't worry about the dishes, I'll do them in the morning," Newt added, already turning and heading down the hall to his bedroom.

"No problem. Night."

Thomas heard the click of the bathroom door closing as he went to check if the stove was turned off and the front door was locked for the night. It had been a quirk of his since he had moved out of his parent's house. He never did it when he was home alone for the night though, only when he and Newt were there.

He gathered up the dishes from the table and put them in the sink, rinsing them off so Newt wouldn't have to scrub too much in the morning.

Thomas heard Newt close his bedroom door as he passed on the way to brush his teeth. He eyed himself in the bathroom mirror as he did, noticing a little flush in his cheeks and wondering what that was all about. He had a brief thought that maybe he was getting sick, and promptly shook it away. He couldn't think about that, not now.

He made his way to his bedroom, closing the door and throwing himself into bed. He gathered his sheets up, covered the side of his face, and tried to slow his breathing. He ran a hand absentmindedly down his leg, where he had felt the tingles earlier. 

He resolved not to think too deeply about it and get in his own head. He would never sleep at that rate.

It took a while, and a lot of tossing and turning, but sleep finally came.


	2. Peaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this one would take a while, but I just can't stop writing. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left me kudos and comments! You mean the world to me. 
> 
> Here's the next one, enjoy!

Thomas woke up the next morning (Morning? Afternoon? He wasn't sure) to the sounds of the coffeemaker going and dishes being done in the kitchen.

From that alone, he bet that it was afternoon. Newt was a heavy sleeper, and was rarely ever awake before Thomas was. He rolled over and grabbed his phone. 

12:21 p.m. 

Thomas had long since stopped feeling bad about sleeping in during this whole thing. It wasn't unusual for he and Newt to shamelessly start their day well past noon anymore. 

He spent a few moments checking his emails (mostly just ones from Target at this point informing him of sales) and various social media notifications (Newt's college friend Minho had posted about going hiking, his mom had sent him some cheesy chain Facebook thing, Brenda had "poked" him. Again.) before setting his phone back down and rubbing his eyes, clearing them.

He rolled out of bed after a moment and stretched, walking over and opening his door.

He could hear Newt finishing up what little dishes they had, the sound of mugs clinking suggesting he was making coffee for either himself or Thomas now. That was one of the best things about mornings (or afternoons) with Newt was that he knew how Thomas liked his coffee. 

Thomas noticed another sound on his way to the bathroom, and couldn't help but smile. Newt was singing to himself quietly while he worked, his voice coming through clearer as the faucet turned off. Some Beatles song, Thomas thought, but he couldn't be sure. He hadn't heard Newt sing in what felt like forever. 

He finished up in the bathroom, morning breath scrubbed away and bladder emptied, and walked back quietly down the hallway.

Newt was still singing, almost without noticing he was doing so now, and Thomas could hear him spraying something. The coffee maker gurgled. 

Thomas rounded the corner, lingered in the doorway, watching for just a moment.

Newt wasnt crazy about singing around other people, so he usually stopped when he realized he wasn't alone, but Thomas had missed the sound, so he stayed quiet, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He didn't want it to stop just yet. 

Newt had some impressive bedhead, his back to Thomas as he finished up cleaning the sink out. On the counter were two mugs, already full. He was singing "Here Comes The Sun". Thomas recognized it now that he was closer. 

He watched Newt kneel down and open the cabinet, put his all-purpose spray back in its bin under the sink with the rest of the cleaning supplies. 

Lemon and mint.

He and Newt had agreed on that one after a memorable day of Newt making him smell nearly every kind of spray in the store before they picked that one. Newt had left with almost $100 in new supplies and Thomas had left with a headache. He had pretended he couldn't care less, but secretly he loved the smell. It smelled like home. 

Newt straightened up again, and his messy hair caught the sunlight coming across from the open living room window, shimmering gold, falling across his face. For just a second, Thomas couldn't breathe. 

Oh.

Oh, shit. 

Thomas was well on his way to realizing something potentially very life-changing and terrifying when his internal monologue was interrupted by Newt turning around and yelping.

"JESUS, bloody Nora!" 

Newt's wide eyes and his hand on his chest made Thomas laugh, he couldn't help it. 

"I'm so sorry!" Thomas apologized, hands up in surrender. 

Newt took a moment, bringing his heartrate down. He scowled at Thomas but there was no real heat in his expression.

"God, Tommy, you scared the Hell outta me!" 

"I'm so sorry, I really didnt mean to!"

Thomas tried to suppress another laugh, but it came out as a snort, which made he and Newt lose it for a second.

Newt's eyes twinkled as he slid a mug across the breakfast bar toward Thomas. 

"Take your stupid coffee you...fiend." 

"Isnt it a little early for old-timey insults?" 

"First of all, it's damn near one o' clock, and secondly, no, not when my flatmate is trying to bloody kill me sneaking around the place." 

"Ouch, duly noted," Thomas bantered back easily, sitting down on the barstool and grabbing his mug. He took a sip, cradling it in his hands. 

It was hot, a little bitter, and had a hint of vanilla. Exactly the way he liked it. 

Newt leaned on the counter across from him, looking rapturous over his own mug. Newt was anything but a morning person, or even an early afternoon person most days. 

"Why were you sneaking around anyway?"

Thomas looked up, met Newt's questioning stare over the rim of his mug. 

"I was listening to you singing."

Thomas hadn't meant to just blurt it out like that. He felt a prickle of embarrassment making it's way up his neck, and he stared down into his coffee. 

"Oh." 

Newt's expression was unfathomable as he took another sip. His cheeks were a little redder than normal.

"Yeah...it's just," Thomas waved a hand, "You seemed pretty down yesterday so it's good to hear you singing again, I guess." 

Thomas was about to die of embarrassment. He really should learn when to stop talking. Newt smiled, his expression softening.

"I am feeling better today, actually." 

"Good." 

They finished their coffee in silence, and Thomas knew that Newt was glancing at him every so often. The truth was that Thomas had grown to be acutely aware of Newt's moods over the years. He could tell by the sound of his breathing, or the way his hands moved how he was feeling now. 

There was a pretty dark time in the past that his lack of singing had meant that Thomas had almost lost him. 

Newt had been so low for so long, the summer just before freshman year of high school, and no matter what Thomas had done, nothing seemed to work. Newt couldn't even tell him why he was sad, just that it wasnt sadness really. Just emptiness.

Eventually, Newt had been sent to visit his grandparents for a while, hoping the fresh air of the countryside would cheer him up a little while he stayed at their estate house. 

Thomas remembered the phone call even though he had been young himself. Newt's mother had called his mother and let him know that Newt was in the hospital. 

Isolated from his family and friends and basically in the middle of nowhere, he had climbed onto the roof of his grandparent's house and "fallen off", his mother had said.

Thomas knew it wasnt an accident.

Newt had survived, but had landed badly on his left leg, and broken it in three places. There was so much damage to the tendons in his ankle that they couldn't repair all of it, and he was told Newt would most likely have a limp for the rest of his life. 

Thomas remembered going to see Newt, his leg completely enveloped in a huge white cast, their parents and Newt's sister Lizzy (she went by Sonya now) there, and he had broken down. Newt had cried with him, apologizing to Thomas over and over again, telling him he would "get better". 

Newts parents had gotten Newt into counseling, with the best therapists their money could buy. They were reserved, quiet people, but they had tried their best in their own way to get Newt some help. Thomas always got the feeling they were a little ashamed of their son's actions, even though he would never admit it out loud.

Newt had been diagnosed with chronic depression, and after a few years of trying different kinds of therapies and medications, he had finally found something that worked for him. 

Thomas was reminded of it every time he saw Newt's medication in the medicine cabinet, or saw the days his limp gave him more trouble than usual. He was better at it now, but for a few years he drove Newt insane. "Stop babysitting me!" was the common complaint.

Eventually, Thomas had learned the warning signs to look for and didnt need to hover anymore, but Newt always knew when he was worrying. 

"You finished?" Newt asked him, snapping him out of his reminiscence and gestering to his mug. 

"Yeah, thanks."

He knew by Newt's wary expression he could guess what Thomas had been thinking about. 

"Don't you start now, I really am alright," Newt said, his tone full of warning. 

"I know, dont worry," Thomas assured him. 

Newt nodded, grabbing Thomas's mug and taking his own along to the sink. 

"What kind of place has a washer and dryer but not a bloody dishwasher?" Newt mumbled his complaint, not for the first time. 

"What, this _palace_ you mean? Only the best for my honey-bun," Thomas joked, pulling out the worst pet name he could think of and simpering for effect. 

Newt rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. 

"My hero," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Arent I just?"

"Yeah, yeah. Now bugger off," Newt shooed him away toward the living room, turning his face to hide a smile. 

Thomas laughed, making his way to the living room, settling on the sofa.

He pulled out his phone, initiating another stupid "poking" war with Brenda on Facebook, shooting his friend Teresa a reply to her text inquiring which curtains she should get for the house she just bought (though why she thought to ask him he had no idea. He wasnt exactly the interior designer type, that was more Newt's forte). He glanced over at Newt a few times before he realized he was doing it. 

Newt turned the coffee maker to warm, and grabbed a peach and an orange from their fruit bowl on the way to the sofa. He tossed the orange to Thomas, and settled leaning against the arm opposite him, also engrossed in texting someone on his phone. Neither of them were big eaters when they first woke up. 

They sat like that, Thomas enjoying the warm breeze coming from the window next to him, scrolling his Instagram. He clicked the heart icon on a picture of Newt's sister and her roommate, Harriet, enjoying some Starbucks, their fabric masks pulled down around their necks. 

"Lisa says hi," Newt commented, biting into the skin of his peach. 

"You know, I _am_ her son. She could just text me," Thomas replied, shaking his head and digging his nails into the skin of his orange to peel it. 

"Yeah, but you know she loves me more." 

Thomas couldn't really disagree with that one. His mother thought the sun shone out of Newt's ass.

"She would adopt you in a second," Thomas said, popping a slice into his mouth. 

"Having you as a brother? That's ghastly," Newt shot back playfully. 

"Why do you think my parents stopped at one?" Thomas laughed. 

"Yeah, lucky you. Sonya and I about killed each other growing up." 

Sonya was Newt's little sister, but only by one year. He remembered growing up with her always around for a while, but then she had decided that boys were disgusting and had gone off with her own friends most of the time. 

Despite Newt's comment, he and Sonya had always been very close, even if they bickered almost constantly, having both inherited the stubborn trait their father seemed to have. His protectiveness over her had made Thomas wish he had his own siblings. But his parents had only wanted one, and stopped with him. 

She was still in college, having taken a gap year or so to travel the U.S. with her band of friends, changed her name from Elizabeth to Sonya, lost a lot of the family's accent, and shacked up with her close friend Harriet and Harriet's friend, Aris.

Thomas didn't know Harriet very well, but he had met her once or twice. She seemed nice, but a little intimidating. She was a musician, and played guitar for some bar band. He had never met Aris, but he thought the boy looked shy.

Sonya painted, and was as artistically inclined as her mother. Besides singing and occasionally getting out his own old guitar, Newt was the more business minded of the family (though he hated leadership roles. He left that to his boss, Alby.) He took after his father in that way. 

Newt took another bite of his peach, the juice making his lips shiny. He sharply exhaled out of his nose and leaned over to show Thomas something funny he found. 

Thomas chuckled along with him, but his eyes kept zeroing in on Newt's lips. They looked unbelievably soft, even though Newt never seemed to have chapstick around.

He could smell Newt's shampoo, the laundry soap they used. He could feel his body heat. 

A thought came unbidden into his mind, and he wondered for moment, if he were to lean a little closer and put his mouth on Newt's, would he taste like peaches.

Thomas moved back, his heart pounding, wondering if he was going insane. His hands shook a little as he busied himself in pulling up the news on his phone to distract himself from that train of thought. 

Yeah, good, depressing virus news should help with whatever the Hell just happened there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter:
> 
> Here Comes The Sun-The Beatles
> 
> Peaches-Milk and Bone


	3. Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, lads, I've got the slow burn on low in the Crockpot 
> 
> I'm working on Chapter 4 as well, might be a little longer since I have a lot of revising to do
> 
> Enjoy!

It was almost May, and they were still locked down together.

Things were starting to get weird. 

Thomas had no idea how to deal with what was happening to him around Newt. He couldn't pinpoint how things had changed, or why. 

Surely, if he had been attracted to Newt before, he would have noticed. He would have felt something before. 

He tried to search his memory for any sign throughout their lives that they had come close to anything like this.

He always remembered feeling close to Newt, being protective toward him, liking to make him smile and laugh. He remembered never feeling hesitant to touch him, hug him, sleep next to him on trips or at sleepovers. He felt absolutely comfortable and secure around him. 

That hadn't changed, so what had?

By all accounts, not much. At least on Newt's part. 

He and Newt still joked and bantered, helped each other around the house, worked from home, tidied, cooked meals. Still talked about deep stuff, and light stuff, and everything in between. 

There were just small things that were different, and Thomas felt like it was coming entirely from him.

He felt like he was seeing Newt, really seeing him, for the first time. 

Even though it was all the things he had seen before, obviously, he had never really noticed them like this.

It was Thursday when he noticed that Newt had really nice hands. Strong, shapely, almost pretty. His wrists were slender, but he knew Newt was stronger than he looked. His nails were blunt, he had a callus on his right index finger. His middle fingers slightly tilted in a soft "S" shape on each hand. 

It was Thursday when he wondered how it would feel to hold one, and have Newt hold his, interlace their fingers together.

(How they would feel on him, touching him, caressing his bare skin.)

On Friday, he noticed Newt's "beauty marks." That's what Thomas's mom had always called them. Moles, freckles, "beauty marks", whatever. Newt had quite a few of them. He had one right under his right eye, almost colorless. One on his right temple, one in the middle of his left nostril. Seven on his neck, one dotting his left cheek. A scattering along the left side of his jaw, his cheeks. One above the arch of his left eyebrow. 

On Friday, he thought about the others he had seen. He thought about ones he had never seen, and where they could be.

(How many he could count, how it would feel to map them with his hands, his mouth.)

When Saturday came, he discovered Newt's voice. The exact tone, tambor, how it cracked when he put emphasis on a word or was frustrated or scared. How his accent sounded, how his voice sounded deep and yet high at the same time. Clear, a little nasally. Perfect. 

When Saturday came, Thomas thought of what it might sound like to hear Newt say he liked him, loved him, like that.

(How it would sound to make him moan, how his voice might crack when Thomas touched a place he liked.)

By Sunday, Thomas was sure he had lost his mind entirely.

Thankfully, on Sunday, also came Brenda. 

Well, not physically. But she had Facetimed him to check in and see how he was doing. Thomas was laying on his bed, holding his phone above him. 

"Boy, you are really going through it, aren't you?" 

Thomas scowled at her, "What makes you say that?"

Brenda rolled her eyes, "I know a lovesick look when I see one. What's the scoop on the love life of Thomas?" 

"Non-existant, actually. Empty scooper. I've been single for like, 30 years." 

Brenda wasn't going to give up that easy. She pressed him.

"But there is someone, right?" 

Thomas sighed, sitting up and brushing his hair back. No use in hiding it, Brenda could sniff out bullshit a mile away, like a bloodhound. 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"Huh. Me too, actually. Hey, don't forget about garbage day tomorrow." 

Thomas stared at her.

"So you're not going to grill me about it? Not even the least bit interested?" 

"No, not really. Moment's passed," Brenda answered casually, finagling her phone so she could lay back in her armchair.

She was the picture of nonchalance as she looked at him sideways with a coy look in her eyes.

Damn it, she knew he would fall for that one. Thomas sighed. 

"Alright, I'll bite. It's a...person," Thomas started. 

"Wow. A human, you say? How riveting." 

"That I'm very close to, and have been friends with for a long time," Thomas plowed on, ignoring her. 

"Well, tell me more about this close human-person," Brenda prompted, getting impatient. 

"H- _she's_ very attractive, and strong, and funny. Damn smart, too," Thomas added quickly, kicking himself for his misstep.

Brenda was on him in a second, about to say something, but he warned her. 

"No, don't you dare, alright? Not a word. Not...not yet." 

"Okay, sweetie. My lips are sealed," Brenda backed off, noticing something in his expression that made her stop.

She paused for a moment. 

"So have you told huh-she yet?" 

There it was. She really couldn't let things go. 

"No, and I'm not sure I'm ever going to," Thomas admitted, shooting his phone a sharp look. 

"Why not?"

"Well, you've seen how bad I am at flirting firsthand, why do you think?" 

Brenda's eyes lit up, "Oh yeah. You're a lost cause, honey." 

"Tell me about it," Thomas grumbled, picking at a loose thread in his comforter. 

"But you're sweet."

Thomas looked up at her, frowning. 

"Seriously? Just sweet? How's that supposed to charm anyone?" 

"Trust me, kiddo, that bar is pretty low for some men. I've dated plenty of 'not-sweet'. Don't be like those guys," Brenda shot back. 

"Yeah, but I was thinking more, I dunno, dashing? Horrendously charming? Ridiculously suave?" 

Brenda smirked, "I think the best you can hope for is cutely awkward, but plenty of people like that. Maybe your human-person will, too."

Thomas snorted. 

"And hey, if they've been your friend for a while they probably already know that about you. Just...work within your capabilities. Be yourself, as cliche as that sounds," Brenda added thoughtfully.

Thomas had to admit she had a point there. No use pretending around Newt, they had known each other for way too long. He knew exactly what Thomas was like trying to romance someone, and had playfully teased him about it on a few occasions. 

And it was clear Newt liked him, liked to be around him. Thomas knew he could have up and left at any point before this whole thing went down if he really wanted to. There had to be reasons why he stuck around, even if those reasons were nothing more than platonic.

"Yeah, you're right."

Brenda smiled, "I know."

Thomas desperately wanted to change the subject. 

"So who's your human-person?"

"Oh. He was the same guy I was dating when you asked me out," Brenda replied, inspecting the fingernails on her right hand.

Thomas was surprised.

"Wait, so you didn't reject me because you didn't like me?" Thomas asked. 

"No! I mean, I probably wouldn't have dated you anyway, I'll be real. But not because you're an awful person or anything. You're just a little _too_ sweet for me," Brenda explained, "I like em a little rough." 

"You're such a fuck-boy." 

"Born and raised, baby. His name's Gally." 

"Gally?"

"Yeah, as in Galileo. I'm not kidding. I dunno, his parents are the weird hippie type," Brenda laughed, "He's not though. He drives a motorcycle, wears combat boots, has a buzzcut."

"So a little like you, then?" 

"Yeah but my buzzcut was a quarantine necessity since my barber closed down. He's had his for years. Plus my boots are better." 

Thomas chuckled, situating his phone in front of him as he shifted to his stomach.

"Hey, Brenda?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Just...thank you. Weirdly enough that helped," Thomas said. 

Brenda softened at that, resting her chin on her hand. 

"You're welcome, hon. Just make sure you say something before we're all let loose and your human-person has the chance to go find someone else, okay?" 

"I'll try," Thomas said. 

"Good. I gotta go though, I have to go see if anywhere still has milk before everything closes," Brenda replied.

"Try the Safeway up the road on First. Newt and I found some the other day."

"Cool, thanks, I'll try there first. Text me later!" Brenda added, a blurry capture of her standing up the last thing on the screen before she disconnected.

Thomas ended his own feed, and locked his phone. He shifted around to lay on his back, his hands on his stomach, staring at his ceiling.

What on Earth was he going to do? Brenda was right, but on the other hand, maybe Thomas was reading into something that wasn't there. 

He could admit he liked touching Newt. It felt good, the way contact was supposed to. Made him feel safe, cared for. 

But his touch had never caused tingles to happen.

He could even admit that he had been curious about how Newt's body was developing as they grew up, had looked at the muscles moving under his skin and hair growing in new places and thought, _huh_. 

But he'd never thought about kissing or touching those places before. 

Sure, Thomas had gone through his preteen sexuality exploring phase, wondering about other guys, but it had been in a hypothetical and abstract way. It never resulted in anything like this before.

Maybe he _was_ just lonely. The thought depressed him. 

His phone buzzed next to his arm. He checked it.

 **From** : Newt Noot 🐧  
_Come look what I found :)_

Thomas locked his phone again and sat up, rolling off his bed and leaving his bedroom.

He checked the living room and kitchen but they were empty. A quick glance at Newt's open bedroom door told him it was empty too.

His phone buzzed again.

 **From** : Newt Noot 🐧  
_I'm in the utility closet_

Thomas frowned at that. That closet was packed so full of junk he could only imagine what Newt had found in there. It was the one place Newt hadn't touched yet, claiming he needed to wait and gather his strength before tackling it. 

He made his way past the front door and down a short entryway to their utility closet/pantry/part time mini storage shed, and almost killed himself tripping on a pile of junk in the doorway. 

Ah, that explained it. Newt seemed to be knee-deep in decluttering it. He must have found that strength. There were piles of things arranged all over the little hallway leading to it. 

"Hey, come look at this," came Newt's voice, "I didnt even know we still had these."

Thomas walked in, carefully maneuvering the piles and saw Newt, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed under him. An old photo album lay open in his lap, the jacket covered in old stickers. Two more were stacked nearby. 

"No way!"

"Yeah, I know. I thought we'd lost these in the move. They were hiding under all this Christmas rubbish," Newt replied, scooting over so Thomas could join him. 

The page was open to a few photos of Newt and Thomas at summer camp. They had to have been 10 and 12 here, both in horrid tie-dyed shirts. Thomas still had his baby fat, looking even bigger next to Newt's pixie-like body. He laughed. 

"Wasn't this the time you got poison ivy all over you?"

"Yeah, and the bloody mosquitos ate me alive as well. I was so itchy that summer," Newt agreed, looking disgusted at the memory.

"I just remember swimming a lot. And fishing with the counselors," Thomas shared a look with Newt, "Wasn't that the worst?" 

"Really was. Dunno why anyone bothers doing that, honestly." 

Newt flipped the pages slowly, each of them sharing memories long-forgotten. Camping trips, school dances, holidays at each other's houses. 

They giggled like kids over one taken outside of a cave system they had gone on a school fieldtrip to. One where unfortunately, the entire class had found out the hard way that Newt was deathly afraid of spiders. 

Thomas turned the page. 

"Oh, this one," Newt said suddenly, pointing out one of he and Thomas at an amusement park. 

They were both taller, gangly, a little sunburnt. Newt had just began to fill out, his face a little more mature. Thomas was on the tail-end of puberty, his shoulders broader, his hands too big for his arms.

The date on the photo said May 16th.

Newt's birthday. 

Newt laughed. 

"I was eighteen that day. A proper adult. Can't believe it, I look about twelve here."

"You still look about twelve," Thomas said, pushing into Newt's side gently. 

"Oh, shut it." 

They gazed at the picture together for a moment. Newt leaned a little into Thomas, their arms touching. Those tingles arrived on cue. 

"I loved this day. So much," Newt said softly. 

Thomas had never heard Newt's voice sound like that before. 

"Why?"

"Because you were there."

Thomas's heart flipped a little, but he shoved it down. He was sure he was misinterpreting the comment. 

He stared up into Newt's eyes. They had gone impossibly sweet, and he had to look away. 

"Well, yeah, aren't I always?" Thomas answered lightheartedly, trying to play the moment off. 

Newt wouldn't be swayed. Whatever he had to say was clearly important. 

"No. _You_ were there. My family wasn't. Couldn't be, I mean," he clarified, faltering. 

Newt had always been understanding of his father being away on business, but Thomas knew it was a sore spot for him. 

For Thomas too, although privately. He still hadn't forgiven Mark for missing Newt's high school graduation. 

"I was so angry about that. So hurt. But you were there and you wouldn't let me be. You bought my ticket, took me on all the rides, let me win every game. Hell, you stuffed every snack you could into me, must have cost you a fortune. Took millions of photos. You made it so...special, Tommy. I've never been able to repay you for that one." 

Thomas cleared his throat. He could feel his pulse pick up. 

"I couldn't let your birthday be ruined, you know?" 

Newt reached out, put his hand over Thomas's own. Thomas could swear Newt's touch was lighting his skin on fire, even though his palm was cool, soft. 

"But you always do things like that for me. You always make sure I'm alright, that I'm happy. Always making me laugh, always looking out for me," Newt pressed.

Thomas wanted to look at him, he really did. Wanted to hold his hand back. But he knew he would betray every stupid thought he'd been having in the past few days.

He couldn't ruin this. 

Newt spoke again, squeezing Thomas's hand briefly. 

"I've never had someone care about me the way you do, Tommy." 

Thomas felt his chest swell, could swear he was as red as the stupid Christmas wrapping paper next to his foot. He finally looked up. 

Newt's face was gentle, compassionate. But his eyes were sharp, like he was trying to tell Thomas something without saying it out loud. Thomas desperately searched his face, trying to read it. 

"You're my best friend, Newt. You know that. I care about you. Of course I do," Thomas choked out.

He was amazed he could get any words out considering his heart seemed to be in his throat at the moment.

Newt's jaw clenched, and for a moment it looked like he really wanted to speak. His eyes fell to Thomas's lips for a moment.

His tongue darted out to wet his own.

A beat passed.

Two.

But whatever he was about to say, or do, Newt seemed to lose his nerve. 

He let go of Thomas's hand and broke the tension. He gestured to another photo of them at the zoo as kids.

Thomas let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. 

Thomas shared in the memories with Newt, and as he did, a little thought floated into his head. 

Maybe he hadn't seen this before because he wasn't looking the way Newt had been.

Maybe this thing had been there all the time. Maybe he had just never noticed.

He had a lot of thinking to do. Later. 

He and Newt went through all three photo albums together, on the floor, surrounded by dusty knick-knacks and junk. 

Newt left the piles on the floor until morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:
> 
> Brooklyn Baby-Lana del Rey (for Brenda)
> 
> Moonlight-Ariana Grande


	4. Strawberry Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this one was a long one!
> 
> Little revelations here, but don't get too excited :) I'm just getting warmed up.
> 
> As always thank you for the comments, kudos, and hits!
> 
> Enjoy!

Thomas was sure the city had never been so beautiful. 

He leaned on the rail of their little balcony, barefoot, coffee in hand, watching the sun come up. There was barely enough room for him there with the multitudes of houseplants they had acquired, but he managed. 

The morning streamed gold and orange over the tops of the buildings around him. The sky was shot full of colors: purples and blues and pinks.

Birds had started singing, their voices cheerful and a little sleepy. 

It was way too early. 

He had given up on sleep around 5:30, and gotten up to make a cup of coffee as quietly as he could, not wanting to break the spell of silence that blanketed the apartment. 

He'd come out here to watch the sunrise.

He kept replaying the events the night before, like a movie in his head. He sipped his coffee, watching the steam catch the light. His hand reminded him of Newt's touch. 

He concentrated on the taste as he took another sip, fiddling with the handle of the mug. He inhaled deeply. The chilly air refreshed him. 

Sometime between last night and dawn he had come to a few conclusions. 

One: there were parts of himself that he hadn't met before now, and his curiosity gnawed at him to find out what they were. 

Two: he wasn't afraid anymore. 

Strangely, this didn't scare him as much as he thought it would. He allowed himself to experience it, let it wash over him. 

He didn't have to name it, or label it yet. 

The "letting go" part went against his nature. He was good at overthinking, analyzing things until it made him sick. 

Teresa had seen this in action during college exams. She'd always teased him about being a "typical Virgo" for it. 

Thomas wasn't sure if he believed in that stuff, but as a Pisces herself it figured she did. 

He smiled to himself. 

For now, even just for a few minutes here alone, he wouldn't let himself tear this one apart.

Deep down, he knew what it was, what it meant. 

But he wouldn't give it a name. Not yet. 

Maybe he didn't need to. Maybe it was enough just to know it was there. 

He stayed there until he couldn't feel his feet from the cold, his mug was empty, and the sun had lit up every window on the building opposite. 

He went back inside. 

A little while later, after showering, Thomas was halfway through changing his shirt. His head was completely obscured by the fabric when he heard padding footsteps across the carpet of the hallway. 

"Alright, serious question now." 

Thomas finished pulling the shirt off and hastily fixed his hair. He turned to look at Newt. He was standing in Thomas's open doorway holding two shirts on hangers in his hands. 

He was already showered and partially dressed, black dress pants clashing with his _Adventure Time_ T-Shirt. 

"Which one should I wear to the office?" Newt inquired, mimicking an American accent badly. 

Thomas considered the options, a slim fitting navy button down, and another button down in a silky light-green color. He walked closer. 

"Well, dear, you do want to make a good impression on the Board, now," Thomas replied in a high-pitched voice. 

Newt's face spasmed, but he didn't break. 

"I think this one. It's oh-so smart," he simpered, toying with the navy button down in Newt's left hand.

Newt looked up at him, his eyes lighting up. 

"Of course. You're right, darling. What would I do without you?" Newt asked. 

He reached up to hold Thomas's chin, the parody of a "Perfect TV Husband." 

"I shutter to think."

They cracked up, Newt letting go of Thomas's face. His skin still felt him there. 

He watched Newt take the shirt he had picked off the hanger, drape it across Thomas's doorknob. He reached behind his head and pulled his T-shirt off. Thomas tried not to stare. 

"Really though, thanks. Alby wants to do a video conference thing with his boss in a bit. I've got to present my quarterly reports," Newt explained, buttoning the shirt and rolling his sleeves up to expose his forearms. 

It looked amazing with his complexion.

"Yikes," Thomas said, and Newt nodded, eyebrows raising.

Newt may have been Alby's assistant, but Mr. Janson was Alby's supervisor. He worked under the CEO, Ava Paige, but she hardly ever did "house-calls", so most of the reporting went directly to him.

He was a stern, no-nonsense type of person. There was no room for mistakes as far as he was concerned. The insurance world was his battleground, and he was the Captain. 

Newt had told Thomas he used to be army or something, and had worked in private security before coming to the firm. 

From what Thomas had heard about him, he couldn't blame Alby for having a temper. He had to work with Mr. Janson all the time. 

He knew Newt and Alby had been working hard on these reports, and that they could be detrimental to his job if anything was wrong. Thomas felt a pange of sympathy.

"Sounds like a blast."

Newt smiled tightly, looking apprehensive. He brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"We should do something afterward, though. I'm gonna need to blow off some steam after dealing with this lot," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward his bedroom door. 

Thomas thought for a moment.

"Hmm...okay, how's Doordash and Mario Kart sound?"

Newt gave him a genuine smile then. 

"That sounds perfect," he replied. He hung the remaining shirt and the empty hanger on the back of the door.

"Really, Tommy, what would I do without you?"

He sounded like he was asking himself that question. 

"It's no problem. I love making you happy," Thomas said, not thinking. 

Newt stared at him. Thomas shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly painfully aware that he never finished putting on his own shirt. He fought the urge to cover his chest.

"Good that. You wouldn't be much fun to live with if you made me miserable all the time," Newt said finally, trying for humor. 

Thomas latched onto it, grateful.

"Yeah, well, don't tempt me," he said, then added sincerely, "Good luck, though. I know you'll do great."

"Cheers. I hope so," Newt said, sighing. He clenched his hand into a fist, relaxing it after a moment. 

Thomas put his hand on Newt's shoulder, squeezing reassuredly.

"You will. You're the smartest guy I know. Janson won't know what hit him." 

Newt leaned into Thomas's touch momentarily. He reached up to encircle his wrist with his hand. 

His touch sent shivery waves up Thomas's arm.

Thomas could feel the heat coming off of Newt on his bare chest, acutely aware of close they were standing then. He could smell the Burberry cologne he had gotten Newt for Christmas.

Their eyes met. Newt's fingers tightened.

His watch buzzed, signaling his meeting was about to start. 

"Better order that food," Newt murmured, his voice a little croaky. 

His eyes flashed down Thomas's body, quickly enough that Thomas would have missed it if he hadn't been staring. 

"I'm already starving." 

Before Thomas could react, Newt turned, walking to his room. He closed his door. Thomas could hear his office chair being wheeled back from his desk after a moment. 

Thomas stood in the hallway, his hand still halfway raised. He lowered it. His whole body seemed to be pounding. 

He practically ran back to his own room, shutting the door and leaning back against it. His noticed his cock was embarrassingly half-hard. 

God, what was he, fifteen? Or some swooning Regency heroine, gone from a touch on the wrist? 

He thumped his head against the door, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, trying to slow his breathing. The image of Newt's bare torso, pants riding low on his hips burned itself into the back of his eyelids.

Once he was sure he was in control of his body again, he grabbed his phone from his dresser, almost dropping it. He crossed the room, plopped down into his beanbag chair.

He pulled up the Doordash app, determined to distract himself. 

He could hear Newt's voice, sounding official and professional as he presented.

Thomas decided on one of their favorite pizza places, the one they had gone to whenever they had enough money to spare. He added in another order to an ice cream place as an afterthought. 

Once his confirmation email blinked on his phone, he stood up, walking over to finish changing clothes, deciding on a tank top and a baggy pair of sweat pants he hoped would hide any other mishaps that might occur later. 

He headed to the living room. Passing Newt's door he could hear the tinny sound of Janson's voice coming from Newt's laptop, droning on about something to do with yearly expenses. 

Thomas set up their game, muting the TV so he didn't disturb Newt. He sat on the sofa, idling scrolling his phone until he heard a knock on the door.

He put his phone away and crossed the room, retrieving the bags that had been dropped-off unceremoniously.

No contact delivery was both a blessing and a curse. 

As Thomas finished storing the ice cream in the freezer, Newt walked in, looking exhausted but strangely triumphant. He had changed into his plaid pajama pants and a plain white shirt. 

"How'd it go?"

Newt shrugged, following Thomas to sit on the sofa.

"About as well as I expected. Janson didnt seem particularly thrilled with my ideas about the social media marketing, but he listened at least. Alby did amazing, as usual," he added with a good-natured eyeroll. 

"See? Told you."

"Well, we've got to wait to hear back from Ava. See if she likes it," Newt said.

He smiled as he noticed the box on the table. 

"You're an angel, Tommy. Seriously." 

Thomas fought the heat creeping up his neck. He motioned to the kitchen. 

"There's also dessert in the freezer. Figured you're gonna need a pick-me-up after I kick your ass at this game." 

Newt scowled, flipping the pizza box open and taking a slice.

"I resent that comment. I only lose when you're a dirty cheater," he informed Thomas, taking a bite.

"You can't cheat at Mario Kart!" 

"And yet, here you are."

"Coming in First is not cheating."

Newt grinned impishly, "It is when I'm not the one doing it."

Thomas scoffed, grabbing his own slice, "I think I smell the stench of sore loser."

Newt looked scandelized as he grabbed his controller, scooting back and crossing his legs underneath him.

"Sore loser? You might wanna take a whiff of yourself there, love," Newt quipped.

Thomas laughed, catching the controller Newt tossed to him easily. 

_Love_.

Thomas shook his head, concentrating on choosing a character and car.

They played for a while, eating more in between each game until the pizza was demolished. Thomas concentrated on gunning for first place. Newt seemed intent on throttling him to the abandonment of everything else.

"Oh, come on, that's bullshit!" Thomas exclaimed as his character went careening into a wall at yet another one of Newt's blue shells.

Newt giggled maniacally, his stupid baby Peach whizzing past Thomas and crossing the finish line. 

Thomas tossed his controller on the cushion next to him, crossing his arms. 

"You're awful."

Newt cackled, the twinkle in his eyes making Thomas's heart flip over despite his pouting.

"I may be, but _someone_ mentioned sweets for the winner tonight," Newt said, leaning back and throwing an arm across the headrest.

"I said no such thing," Thomas grumbled, already getting up to retrieve the ice cream, "I ordered for both of us." 

He handed Newt's cup to him, sitting back down and cradling his own. 

Newt took a scoop of strawberry ice cream onto his spoon and popped it into his mouth, moaning a little as his eyes closed.

Thomas's throat went dry. 

"But mine tastes so much sweeter now I've won," Newt teased. 

"Yeah, yeah," Thomas choked out, willing himself to pick up the spoon and eat his own cookie-dough ice cream.

They enjoyed their desserts, lapsing into a tranquil silence.

Thomas kept replaying Newt's moan in his head. He crossed his legs, hoping Newt couldn't tell what was happening to his body at the memory.

"Alright?" 

Thomas glanced up. Newt was looking at him, brow a little furrowed. 

"Yeah. Just getting comfortable." 

Newt pursed his lips, picking at his ice cream thoughtfully.

"I meant lately," he clarified slowly, "Seems like something's been on your mind." 

Thomas shrugged, forcing a smile, "I'm fine."

"Then why have you got your lying face on?" 

Damn. Newt knew his tells like the back of his hand.

Before Thomas could insist he was fine again, Newt put his bowl down and leaned toward him.

"No use trying to hide whatever it is, Tommy. I know you too well for that," he said, putting hand on Thomas's knee, making his stomach jolt.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But it's eating at you. You're not exactly subtle about it." 

Thomas looked down at his bowl. He'd stopped eating a while ago. The ice cream was starting to melt at the edges. 

"I can't tell you," he whispered. 

"Since when can't you tell _me_ anything?" 

"Since now, I guess."

"Why not?" Newt countered, sounding insulted. 

"Because it's about you!" Thomas blurted out before he could stop himself. 

He bit his tongue, forcing his mouth shut. He dared to look up. Newt stared at him blankly for a second before something dawned in his eyes.

"Have I done something wrong?" 

Thomas felt a puff of laughter escape him, only serving to confuse Newt more. 

Fuck it.

"No and that's the problem. You're perfect. You're amazing, and it's making me-" he cut himself off, not sure how to keep going and hating himself for not knowing when to shut up. 

Newt continued to look at him, his eyes boring into Thomas's own. 

"Then why are you afraid to tell me?" 

"Because it's _you_ ," Thomas replied, trying to tell Newt everything without saying it out loud. 

Newt smiled ruefully. He squeezed his knee. 

"Yeah, it's me. And whenever you get around to figuring out what's clunking around inside that brain of yours, it's still gonna be me," he assured, "I'm not going anywhere, mate. So you talk when you're ready and we'll figure it out." 

He made it sound so easy. Thomas resented that he didn't know.

"I don't think it's that simple," he said in a low voice. 

"Maybe it is," Newt shot back, a hint of frustration coloring his tone, "Maybe the one bleedin' person who could understand what you're going through is sat right here. And maybe he understands exactly what it is you're thinking about, and why you can't say it at all." 

Thomas looked at him, shocked.

He had no idea what to say, but before he could try Newt continued. His grip on Thomas's leg was almost painful.

"You don't have to go through everything by yourself, Tommy. Let me in a little. Please."

Thomas closed his eyes.

"If I do...Newt, you have no idea what's at stake here, okay?" He pleaded. 

"I _do_ know. At least, I think I do," Newt added as an afterthought, "Unless I'm reading the room spectacularly wrong. But I'd be willing to bet that I'm not." 

Thomas still had his eyes closed, so he startled a little when he felt Newt press his forehead to his own.

They stayed there for a moment, sharing breath. 

Newt smelled like strawberries. Thomas was terrified to move, afraid he would do something stupid. 

"Take your time. No rush. I want you to be ready when you come find me," Newt said softly.

And with that, he left the room. 

Thomas kept his eyes closed for a beat longer, unable to open them. He could feel the ghost of Newt's face so near his own a second ago.

Newt knew. Thomas was sure of it. 

He felt naked, vulnerable, like he'd been laid bare. He opened his eyes. 

What was he going to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:
> 
> Gravity- Sara Bareilles 
> 
> Strawberries & Cigarettes- Troye Sivan


	5. Beer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but I had a harder time writing this one (writer's block)
> 
> These boys are making me just as impatient as all of you, so enjoy for some breakthroughs :)

Newt was going to be the death of him.

He hadn't even _done_ anything, but Thomas spent the rest of the week absolutely paranoid. He crept around their apartment like a cat, jumping at small noises. 

He was sure his heart would give out at this rate. 

That or his dick would fall off first. 

Newt's eyes followed every movement, his eyes patient, guarded. 

Thomas could feel the tension in the room like someone had turned the heat all the way up. 

It was sweltering. He almost couldn't breathe with it.

And Newt seemingly hadn't changed a thing.

They still joked and bantered, still played video games, watched movies, helped each other around the house, cleaned, cooked meals. Still talked all the time, about light stuff and deep stuff and everything in between.

Newt watched him the entire time, like he was waiting for something. 

It was maddening.

Friday dawned, gray and rainy. The dim light gave the whole apartment a cozy feeling, made Thomas want to curl up and go back to sleep. 

He made his way to the kitchen instead, cooking them both some pancakes from the last of the mix and starting the coffee. 

He heard Newt enter the room, the crackle of the blinds as he peeked out the living room window. 

"Pissing down out there," he commented.

Thomas hummed in agreement, flipping the pancake on the stove. Newt walked up behind him, put his chin on Thomas's shoulder to see what he was doing, his hands on his upper arms. 

Thomas swallowed down the butterflies that had erupted in his stomach.

"Smells good."

"Thanks."

"What's the occasion?" Newt asked, his breath against Thomas's neck.

"We're out of cereal," Thomas answered truthfully. 

Newt chuckled, dipping his head down to trail the tip of his nose against Thomas's shoulder before stepping back and letting go of him to retrieve his coffee. 

They finished breakfast at the counter, both standing. The rain had picked up, beating a steady tattoo on the roof above them. Thomas could hear the distant rumbling of thunder somewhere far away. 

"Suppose we've got to do the shopping," Newt said, looking like he'd rather stay home for once. 

"Yeah. I'll grab first shower, cool?" Thomas asked, gathering their dishes. 

Newt nodded, still looking tired as he leaned on the counter, studying the mug in his hand.

Thomas showered quickly, nearly running into Newt in the hallway on the way to take his own shower.

He finished getting dressed, leaned in the bathroom doorway while he waited for Newt to finish fixing his hair.

"Right," Newt sighed as he turned the blow drier off, "I think that's as good as I'm gonna get." 

His hair was a tad bit messier than usual, but it still looked good on him. Kind of windswept and sexy.

He and Thomas hadn't had real haircuts since this thing started, settling for helping keep each other's necklines and sideburns in check instead.

Thomas glanced at his own hair in the mirror. It was getting longer and starting to spike in stupid ways that he hated.

More than once he had considered "doing a Brenda" and going at it with the trimmer, but that look wasn't his best when he had had it at twelve, and it wasn't likely to be any better if he tried it again.

"You look great," Thomas said, and Newt smiled ruefully.

"Hush you," Newt said shyly, "Come on, let's go." 

He and Thomas grabbed their masks and made their way to the parking lot. 

Newt insisted on driving, leaving Thomas with nothing to do but stare. 

He watched Newt drive. His arm was flung over Thomas's seat as he backed out, biting his lip as he looked over his shoulder. 

The heat was on against the unseasonable chill. Thomas could smell Newt's body wash, his aftershave, the deodorant he wore. 

They were all familiar scents, but for the first time Thomas noticed how it smelled all together: clean, masculine, classy. 

Thomas's body felt a little shaky.

He watched Newt drive, one hand confidentally on the steering wheel, his face glowing against the rainy lighting, and _ached_. 

They managed to get everything on the shopping list this time, up to and including beer. By the time they hauled everything into the trunk and started the drive back home it had stopped raining, the pavement still wet. 

Neither of them had been big drinkers since college, but lockdown seemed as good a time as any to take the edge off a little. It wasn't top-notch, but Newt had still approved of the brand.

Thomas didn't know anything about alcohol other than tequila made him horny and vodka made him puke, but he trusted Newt's judgement from his days of pub crawling whenever he would visit friends and family back in London. 

Later that night, they were watching a movie together on the sofa, enjoying the beers and some after-dinner chocolate popcorn they'd rescued from the back of the pantry. 

Newt had been right, this was pretty good beer. Thomas was well on his way to tipsy, his body getting that warm-fuzzy feeling from the alcohol already. 

Newt was watching the movie, sitting closer than he normally would have. His legs were draped in Thomas's lap as he nursed his own beer. He leaned against the armrest, his mouth toying with the lip of the bottle. 

Thomas watched Newt's tongue move on the wet glass, his teeth scraping the edge. 

He felt hot all over. 

"Feeling good over there?" Thomas asked croakily, taking another long sip.

Newt smiled lazily at him, humming agreement. His eyes looked clear and focused even though he had had a headstart on the beer while Thomas had chosen the movie. 

Then again, Thomas knew he was more of a lightweight than Newt was. He'd watched Newt drink a few guys bigger than him under the table in college and still walk in a straight line. Thomas was usually pretty gone around the fourth bottle. 

Newt turned back to the show, and Thomas watched him staring with rapt attention as the male lead professed his love for the female lead. 

Thomas thought it sounded horribly cheesy, all "destiny" and "fate" bullshit. Newt was apparently a bit enraptured though. 

"That's cute," Thomas murmured to himself, taking another sip and feeling the (slightly warm now) beer slide down his throat. He noticed suddenly that his nose was stuffy. 

Newt shot him a look, and Thomas realized he had heard him. 

"What is?"

Thomas shrugged, "You. Watching romantic stuff. Playing pretend."

Newt took a final sip of his own beer, and Thomas watched his throat move as he drained the last of it. 

"I like playing pretend," Newt commented, setting his empty bottle down, "and anyway, that's sort of the point of these movies, yeah?" 

"Yeah, I guess so," Thomas replied, then paused, "I dunno. Makes me feel lonely." 

"You could change that, you know. Don't have to feel lonely," Newt told him, leaning his head against his hand that was propped up on the armrest.

"How?"

"How do you think?" Newt challenged lightly. 

"I mean...how do most people do it?" Thomas asked, throwing his hands up and almost spilling his beer. 

"They talk, Tommy. They use words."

Thomas huffed, "Yeah, and we both know that's my forte, right there." 

He took another deep drink, and realizing his bottle was empty, reached for another. 

"Don't be a twat," Newt said, no heat in his tone, "You're smart. You know what to say, if you want to say it. You don't have to."

"I do, though. I do want to, I just-" 

"Well, come on then, mate," Newt pressed.

His face was lit up with the colors of the movie they had forgotten about, hair falling across his eyes. 

He looked beautiful. 

"I like boys," Thomas said.

Newt was quiet. Thomas could hear ringing in his ears. His head felt heavy. He took another few gulps from his bottle, nearly choking on it. 

There it was. The first time he'd given it a name.

Even as childish as the sentence had sounded, he had said it.

Relief washed through his system even as his pulse picked up. 

The floodgates opened.

"I mean, I like girls too, but I think I like boys, and the more I think about it the more panicky I get and-" 

"Me too." 

Thomas stared. Newt was calm, still completely clear behind the eyes. Strangely, Thomas felt the back of his head tingling. 

"Huh?" 

Newt sat up, pulling his legs away from Thomas's lap and crossing them under himself. 

"I. Like. Boys. Too," he repeated slowly, " _Just_ boys." 

Thomas gaped, then remembered that wasn't the right way to react to a sentence like that.

"Oh. Thanks. For, uh, telling me." 

A loud laugh burst out of Newt. Thomas couldn't help but join in, his relief catching up to him. His chest felt lighter. 

"See? Was that so hard?" Newt asked, smiling kindly. 

He took Thomas's free hand in both of his own. 

His skin was warmer than usual, his palms a little clammy. He flipped Thomas's hand over, tracing the lines there feather-light. 

Thomas shivered.

"You're fine, you know?" Newt told him, "It's just me. Nothing to be afraid of." 

"I know, " Thomas said, then added after a beat, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Newt shrugged, his fingernails skimming Thomas's palm.

"Didn't want to make you uncomfortable around me." 

Thomas squeezed Newt's thumb, "You wouldn't have, you know. I'm not like that. Even if my, uh, door didn't swing...both ways, I guess."

Newt quirked a smile at that, then shook his head. 

"I know you're not like that, Tommy, but that's not the only reason," Newt mumbled. 

"So tell me," Thomas said. 

Newt ignored him.

"You're shaking," he commented instead, still tracing patterns on Thomas, moving up his wrist now. 

Thomas looked down in surprise, saw Newt's hands vibrating a little along with his tremors.

"You're making me shake," Thomas confessed in a hushed tone, "Feels too good when you do that." 

Newt still didn't look at him. 

He ran his fingertips down the inside of Thomas's forearm, across his wrist, his palm, playing lightly with the ends of his fingers. 

Thomas nearly moaned at the feeling, all shimmery across his body.

"Sometimes I wonder," Newt said, his tone conversational, but his fingers too intense to be casual, "What else I could make you do." 

Thomas felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He felt his cock pulse, blood rushing hot to his thighs. 

" _Please_ ," Thomas breathed. 

Strangely, Newt's face broke into a small smile. He shook his head.

"Not yet," Newt replied, "not tonight." 

"Why?" Thomas asked, a little pathetically. 

Newt eyed him, "The state of you. You've been drinking more than me tonight." 

Thomas turned to look at the bottles, blushing when he realized he was right. He had at least three more beers than Newt had, and the supply they had wasn't exactly the smallest to begin with. 

The bottle in his hand was almost drained. He put it on the table quickly, his face burning.

"God, I'm sorry." 

Newt chuckled, rubbing Thomas's arm, "You're an adult, Tommy, you're allowed a tipple. Or six."

Thomas scrubbed his free hand over his face. He could feel it was oily. He could only guess how pitiful he looked.

Newt's eyes were compassionate. 

"But I said I wanted you ready, yeah? This isn't ready, mate. This is drunk and randy," Newt said, casting a glance down at Thomas's lap. 

Thomas followed his gaze, and covered himself quickly when he realized the outline of his fully hard cock was clearly visible in his sweat pants. 

"It's fine, Tommy, really," Newt assured him, giggling as he started to help Thomas up off the sofa. 

They made their way to Thomas's room, Newt doing most of the work.

Thomas felt floaty. And stupid 

Newt opened the door and sat Thomas on the bed, kneeling down to help him take off his socks. Thomas leaned back, flopping himself down, scooting up until he was against his pillow.

The sudden stillness made him feel like he was swimming, all the blood coming back from his pelvis. His head rushed. 

"Newt?" he asked, as Newt reached over to turn out his lamp as soon as Thomas was settled under the covers.

"Yeah?"

"Can you...will you stay?" 

Newt hovered, his feet shifting. He seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Tommy." 

"I won't touch you," Thomas said quickly, putting his hands behind his lower back, "I'll be a good boy. I promise."

Newt's face spasmed, turning red for some reason. He still hesitated. 

"I just...I need you. Please? Just come sleep next to me? Just sleep. You know, like we used to," Thomas begged. 

Newt fought with himself a second more, then sighed. 

He walked to the other side of Thomas's bed, getting under the covers. 

They settled in, on their sides, facing each other. Thomas made sure to keep distance between them, not wanting to do something that would make Newt leave. 

Thomas reached over to turn off his lamp. His fingers were clumsy, but he managed. The whole room went dark. 

It was quiet. So quiet Thomas could hear his own heart beating in his ears. His head was heavy, but his eyes wouldn't close. 

Newt's eyes shone in the darkness like a cat's.

"Thank you for staying," Thomas said, his face muffled from being half-smashed into his pillow.

"You're welcome," Newt said back, voice low. 

"Haven't done this in a while. I missed it. Missed you," Thomas rambled into his pillow. 

He thought back to all the times they had done this, on camping trips and in the bed of Thomas's first truck on road trips and summers at each other's houses. Once, memorably, even in a treehouse.

Newt's side of the bed shook with silent laughter. Thomas shifted to look at him.

"Go to sleep, Tommy."

Thomas nodded, and was just about to do so when a thought occured to him.

"Hey, Newt?"

"Yes?"

" _Can_ I touch you?" he asked quietly. 

He felt Newt stiffen, and quickly backtracked. 

"Not tonight, I mean! Just...someday? Only if you want me to," Thomas added.

Newt was so quiet for a moment Thomas thought he must have fallen asleep. His eyes were closed.

"I'm not made of bloody stone, mate," he grumbled into his pillow, "Yes, alright? Yes. One day you can touch me. And one day I'll touch you back. But for now, get some sleep." 

Thomas grinned, satisfied. He nestled down into the bed more, pulling the covers over himself. He felt heavy all over now. His eyes drifted closed. 

"Okay. Good. 'Night Newt." 

"Goodnight, Tommy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:
> 
> Boys- Charli xcx
> 
> Touch- Troye Sivan


	6. Bacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally time to turn the simmer up a little :)
> 
> Enjoy this one, and as always thank you for your support!

Thomas woke up the next morning to a puddle of drool, a stabbing pain behind his left eye, and not even the luxury of memory-loss to go along with his minor hangover.

His bed was empty, the side Newt had slept on cold. Thomas wiped his face, rolled over to check the time on his phone.

1:12 p.m.

He groaned. He rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

He indulged the side of himself that wanted to be a big baby about last night for a moment, pretended he was alone and didn't have to think about what to say to Newt.

The sound of Newt clearing up the bottles on the coffee table broke him out of it.

Thomas hauled himself out of bed, brushing his teeth and flossing, gargling with mouthwash as he stepped into the shower. 

He stood there under the hot water, spit the mouthwash at his feet, ridding him of his stale beer-breath. He decided to take his time shampooing and washing his body, drawing out the tension from his muscles.

He slid a soapy hand down between his legs, idly stroking his cock, getting it hard. 

He might as well play it safe and clear the pipes after last night's fiasco. 

He leaned against the wall of the shower, biting his lip and began jerking himself off roughly, not bothering to take his time. 

Images of various body parts and fantasies circled his mind: boobs, cocks, hard muscles and soft curves, until it settled on a thin frame and dark eyes and wild blond hair. 

Before it could take on a full form, Thomas's stomach clenched, his whole pelvis lighting up with a sweet kind of soreness. He gasped, felt his cock pulse in his hand as he came, the usual warmth of it getting lost under the spray of the showerhead. 

His orgasm flooded relief and pleasure through his system as he let out a shaky exhale, gently working himself through the aftershocks. 

He took a moment for his breathing to come down, cleaning up the evidence quickly and efficiently. His head felt better, more clear. 

Funny how that worked.

When he couldn't stand it any longer he got out, drying off quickly and heading back to his room to get dressed. He could hear Newt bustling around the kitchen. 

Thomas threw his towel across the top of his hamper to dry and picked out a clean pair of pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. He paused as the scent of bacon wafted toward him.

Newt was cooking.

Thomas knew that Newt hated to cook. While he wasn't actually that bad at it, he usually got so frustrated with it that he ended up messing up simple recipes. He had gladly handed the helm to Thomas when they moved in together. 

Thomas made his way down the hall, curiosity getting the better of him. Nothing smelled burnt, so he wasn't too afraid. 

Newt was standing a bit far away from the stove, looking cautiously at the popping bacon he was attempting to flip. His tongue was out as he concentrated. He looked over as Thomas entered the kitchen. 

"You're cooking." 

Newt smirked, "Morning to you, too. Or afternoon, rather. Here," he added, handing Thomas a glass of water and an aspirin. 

Thomas downed the pill and gulped the water gratefully. 

Newt offered him a mug of coffee and Thomas took it, feeling life itself entering his body at the first sip. 

He sat at the breakfast bar, watched Newt putting the bacon on the plates. 

"But you're actually cooking. Is it my birthday?" Thomas said, smiling. 

His head still pounded, but his appetite was returning. Newt laughed, handing him a plate. It smelled greasy, fatty, and absolutely heavenly. 

"Reckon you could use some food. And a fry-up is a solid hangover cure," Newt eyed the plate, "Well, as close as I could get to a fry-up anyway. Still had beans, some toast, eggs. Had to make do with our sub-par American bacon, but it should work a treat." 

"Don't be hating on my American bacon, man," Thomas said around a mouthful of toast.

Newt rolled his eyes, picking up a slice of his own bacon, throughly enjoying it. 

"See? I'm rubbing off on you," Thomas said, pointing at him triumphantly.

Newt shot him a wicked look, "Let's hope not too much."

Thomas coughed, covered it up by shoving more food in his mouth as Newt sniggered at him.

They lasped into an easy chat, but Thomas could feel that tension creeping up his shoulders again even as his headache went away. 

Newt was mentioning something about how Minho was planning to Skype them both soon, and Thomas gathered his courage.

He looked into Newt's eyes and decided to take the plunge. 

"Hey, um, I'm sorry, by the way. About last night."

Newt gave him an incredulous look, "What are you sorry for?" 

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, "I got pretty sloppy. I didn't mean to have you have to take care of me. I need to remember I can't drink like I used to."

Newt reached across the counter to pat Thomas's hand, "I've been taking care of you for a long time, mate, and I've seen you a lot worse. You'd have done the same for me." 

"Yeah, but it wasn't my proudest moment there," Thomas admitted, "I did some stupid stuff."

Newt fixed him with an intense gaze over the rim of his mug.

"Did you mean it?" 

"What?"

"What you said, last night," Newt asked, "Did you mean it?" 

Thomas looked at him, reading so much apprehension behind his gaze. He wanted to reach over, touch him, hold him, soothe the look away. 

"Every word." 

Newt studied him for a second longer before visibly relaxing. Thomas exhaled, the tension immediately lifting from the room, like Newt had command over it. 

"About bloody time, Tommy," Newt replied.

He was grinning hugely, his expression knocking Thomas's heart around in his chest. 

"Excuse me?" Thomas asked, smiling back involuntarily.

"Thought I was gonna go mad before you gave me a clear answer," Newt said, "I wasn't gonna start anything until you gave me the green light, but I've been about jumping out my skin. Thank God for liquid courage." 

Thomas laughed, covering his mouth to stop bread crumbs from flying out, "Well, you're a cool customer, Mr. Newton. You had me fooled."

"I'm a good actor," Newt said simply, "and I've had a bit of experience with this sort of thing." 

"Meaning?"

Newt paused, shifting, avoiding Thomas's eyes.

"This whole you and me thing, well...isn't exactly _new_ on my side." 

Thomas was vaguely aware his mouth was open as he took in what Newt was saying. He swallowed quickly. 

"How long?" He asked. 

Newt looked down at his plate, idly picking at the remaining food there.

"I can't remember the first time exactly," he began, "But I remember when I first realized it."

Thomas stayed quiet, letting Newt gather his thoughts. Newt finally looked up.

"Do you remember when you snuck in my window, and dragged me with you to see _Scott Pilgrim_?" Newt asked.

Thomas remembered, even though the details were a little fuzzy. 

He had been fifteen, and had begged his parents to see it in theaters. They hadn't let him, so he had climbed the side of Newt's house, tapped on his window, and convinced him to go with him late one night.

His first (but not last) act of teenage rebellion. His mind latched onto something.

"Newt...that was ten years ago." 

Newt clenched his fist lightly, pursing his lips. Thomas's mug of coffee sat forgotten. 

"That night was probably nothing to you, I know that. You were just having fun, your first time sneaking out," Newt continued, finally looking up, his eyes guarded.

"But for the life of me, Tommy, I couldn't tell you what that bloody film was about because the whole time I was looking at you and thinking about kissing you."

Thomas couldn't breathe, couldn't think. 

"And then you started dating, always girls, and I reckoned I never had a chance. So I did nothing," Newt said quietly, and Thomas had to strain to hear his voice.

"But I never stopped hoping. Not really. Felt bad about that, too. And then you started giving me hints, reacting to me. Thought I was finally losing it, seeing things that weren't there," Newt finished, nervously fiddling with his fork.

"And then last night, you held my hand and told me you liked boys, and got hard, asked me if you could touch me, and I got so scared. You're my best friend, and I've got no idea what to do." 

Thomas extended his hand, lightly wrapping his fingers around Newt's, and suddenly, everything was all right. 

"I'm scared too," he said, "And I have no idea what I'm doing either. But I know what I want, Newt."

"I hope you do, mate, I really do," Newt said, still cautious, still not trusting himself.

Ten years. A decade. 

Newt had been waiting for him for so long and hoping and longing and Thomas hated himself all of a sudden, hated that Newt had had to wait for so long for him. 

He wished he could be smoother about this, wait for the perfect moment. He wished he could be the leading man in last night's movie and make some awful speech and have the credits roll on a moment of bliss. 

He watched Newt watching him, and his mind went blank. He had no plan, no speech. 

But he had an idea. 

Thomas stood up before he could think twice about it, heart pounding. He'd always been good at acting first and thinking later, before he could get caught up in the thinking part.

He came around to the other side of the bar, standing close. He gently cupped Newt's his face in his hands, tilting it upward to look at him.

He settled for simple, just telling the truth as best he could and forgetting to be suave at all. 

"I want _you_ ," he breathed, watching Newt's eyes fall closed, "I want us. I want all the stupid jokes and movie nights and to make you laugh. For as long as you'll let me. And I know it's new and I'm scared to death of screwing it up and ruining everything we have, but I still want to try." 

It came out a little too fast, jumbled and nervous, but he knew Newt had heard every word. 

He reached up, circling his hands around Thomas's wrists, a mirror of a few nights ago.

"Just don't break my heart, Tommy," Newt tried for humor halfheartedly, but his eyes were scared, "I mean it. I couldn't handle that."

Thomas leaned in, pressed his lips softly to Newt's cheek.

His forehead.

Each of his eyelids. 

Thomas could feel him trembling. 

"Never. Never, Newt. I promise," Thomas whispered.

Thomas pulled him in, just holding him, Newt's head against his chest as he rested his cheek against the top of his head. 

They lingered there, holding each other. For how long Thomas didn't know, but he could have let the entire day pass and not cared at all.

It wasn't a perfect Hollywood movie moment. Newt still had bed hair, and they were both in their pajamas, and it was an awkward position because Newt was still sitting, but it was real.

Them.

Natural, easy as breathing. Thomas couldn't remember what he had been so scared of before he held Newt like this. 

Newt broke the silence first.

"Let's take this slow, yeah?" Newt said, pulling back to look at Thomas seriously, "I don't want to cock it all up, so let's go slow." 

Thomas nodded, running his fingers through Newt's hair, pressing his face there, breathing in the scent of sleep. Newt clung to his shirt, his breathing slowing down. 

Thomas knew they had a lot to figure out, but he didn't feel so alone in it. He had always been able to go to Newt for help with anything, why would this be any different?

"You might have to take the lead on this one for a bit," Newt added, his voice vibrating through Thomas's torso.

"Okay," Thomas said, knowing whatever Newt needed the answer would be yes. 

"I'm just afraid I won't be able to control myself," Newt explained bashfully, "I've been wanting this for so long. I might rush it. I'll follow your lead. I don't want to push you too fast."

"I go where you point me," Thomas replied, letting Newt know it was okay for them to both give and take here. 

He ran his hands down Newt's back, soothing him, "Trust me Newt, I'm ready. Right here, right now. I'll take it slow, but I want _everything_ with you." 

Newt made a sound almost like a sob, stress draining from his body as he relaxed into Thomas's arms.

"Can't quite believe this is real yet," Newt said, sounding awestruck.

Thomas smiled, swaying a little as he held Newt, "Neither can I," he confessed. 

Newt pulled back, only far enough so he could look up, his hands coming down to rest at Thomas's hips. 

"So, what's the plan?" Newt asked him, eyes twinkling at the familiar phrase. 

It was a phrase they had used their whole lives. Before every childhood game and teenage prank and life-changing moment. Thomas ran his hands up and down Newt's arms, thinking. 

"Normally I'd say a date would be a good place to start," he began. 

"That's a bit out at the moment, I'd say." 

Thomas had already started planning, "No, no, give me some time. I'll find something."

"Gonna show me a good time?" Newt teased. 

"Oh, when I'm done with you, you'll be thoroughly dated. You'll be woo'd. Dare I say, even _courted_ ," Thomas replied, trying for his worst British accent on the last part. 

Newt snorted, shaking his head.

"God, stop," he groaned, "we've talked about your awful impression of me." 

"Yeah, but I got you to laugh, so I win," Thomas stated.

Newt flushed, then his face flashed worry across it briefly. 

"Do you think this is gonna change us much?" He asked.

Thomas paused. He brought his hand up to stroke Newt's cheek. 

"You want honesty, or do you want Thomas's signature evasive tactics?" 

"Honesty. Always." 

"Yes," Thomas answered finally, rubbing his thumb lightly across the corner of Newt's mouth, "It will. It already has, let's face it. I think that might be the fun part, though."

Newt thought for a moment, then smiled, his eyes determined. He looked excited.

"I'm with you, Tommy. Whatever you want. I'll give you everything I've got."

Thomas pressed his lips to Newt's jawline, unable to help himself.

"That goes for you, too. Everything I've got."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs: 
> 
> Cover Your Tracks- A Boy and His Kite
> 
> You & Me- James TW


	7. Birthday Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date night is here! And Newt's birthday!
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I had some college finals to finish up and I'm also prepping to receive a new family member (my first tarantula) so I've been a little busy.
> 
> This was an absolute treat to write, so as always thank you and enjoy!

"You know," Newt called from his bedroom, "This is a bit ridiculous considering we live with each other." 

Thomas adjusted the collar of his best (and pretty much only) white button down. He snort-laughed.

"Hey, I told you I would take you on a real date, and what better time than your birthday?" Thomas replied, "So, let me be romantic and do it right." 

Newt cracked up as Thomas exited out the front door. He turned, catching Brenda's eye as she stood outside her apartment. In her hands was a bouquet of sunflowers, already in a vase. 

Right on cue. 

She winked at him, "Everything's in your car," she whispered, handing him back his keys.

"Spare key's under the mat," he reminded her quietly as she nodded, ducking into her apartment.

Thomas took a breath, and knocked on his own door. 

He bounced on the balls of his feet, heard Newt approach and begin opening the door.

Newt looked like he was about to make a smartass comment when he froze, seeing the flowers Thomas and Brenda had kept him in the dark about.

"Happy Birthday," Thomas said, taking in Newt's appearance, "You look great." 

Newt took the flowers, smiling shyly. 

Thomas had insisted on doing this right, and they had gotten ready in secret, agreeing not to peek until Thomas "arrived" for their date. 

Thomas hadn't seen him since this morning, and Newt absolutely took his breath away.

He'd carefully done his hair, and it was the sexy kind of messy Thomas loved on him, casually swept back and shiny. 

Thomas raked his eyes up Newt's body, appreciating how his gray button down shirt emphasized his figure. He had a form fitting pair of black jeans on. They looked new. 

Thomas guessed he wasn't the only one with tricks up his sleeve today.

"Thank you," Newt said sincerely, touching the flower petals gently, marveling at Thomas as he smiled. 

"They're beautiful. And you don't look so bad yourself," he added, taking in Thomas's outfit.

Newt's gaze lingered on the tight jeans and made Thomas's face heat up. 

Newt set the vase down on the counter before following Thomas out the door and down the stairs to the parking lot.

They got in the car, Thomas driving.

He shot a quick thank you to the universe for breaking the recent gray weather and giving them some sunshine. 

"So," Newt asked as they started backing out, "Where are you taking me?" 

"You'll see," Thomas evaded, "I hope you're hungry though."

"You know bloody well I am," Newt grumbled. 

Thomas bit back a laugh. They had had a light lunch on purpose, but he knew Newt was suffering now since it was nearly 6 o'clock. 

He drove carefully, mindful of the supplies Brenda had snuck into the trunk for him earlier. He took them a different way, hoping to not tip off Newt to his plans too soon. 

The drive was short, and he saw Newt's eyes light up with recognition as the park came into view.

"Here we are," Thomas announced, parking in the nearly empty lot and getting out quickly. 

He reached Newt's side to open the door for him, reveling in his blush as he did. He opened the trunk and retrieved the picnic basket Brenda had loaned him, laughing when he caught Newt's expression. 

"Jesus, did you have a master plan for this whole thing?" 

"Pretty much," Thomas confessed, taking Newt's hand as they made their way into the park, "Brenda helped."

They walked, their fingers interlaced, and Thomas had a brief thought that one day he might have to be more cautious about taking Newt's hand like this in public. The thought made him sad for a moment before Newt spoke, shaking it off. 

"I should've known," Newt replied, a glint in his eye, "cheeky buggers, the both of you."

Thomas cackled as they made their way to a spot he had scoped out once before when he had used to come here. 

It was away from the walkways, secluded and shady, surrounded by tall trees. Thomas hadn't been back in a while, but he had always thought the spot looked nice for a picnic. 

Thomas set up the blanket and basket, taking care to arrange everything so it looked good. Bread, fruit, cheese, and olives that Thomas had gathered, and a bottle of red wine and two glasses, courtesy of Brenda. 

Thomas eyed the label on the bottle, making a mental note to thank her profusely later for her choice. 

They settled, sitting together with their feet touching as Thomas opened the bottle after a moment of searching for the corkscrew.

"This is lovely, Tommy," Newt said, as Thomas handed him a glass of wine, "Thank you. Been ages since anyone took me on a proper date." 

He sniffed the wine, swirling it, looking appreciative. 

"It's your twenty-eighth. I want today to be perfect, you know?" Thomas answered, taking a sip of his own wine, letting the flavor roll over his tongue.

"Don't remind me," Newt said darkly, "Nearly thirty now." 

Thomas nodded solemnly, "I know. I figured I'd give you a proper send off before I cart you to the retirement home." 

"Oh, shut it," Newt laughed, pushing Thomas lightly. 

They ate and chatted, watching the few people in the park biking or walking their dogs. They seemed so far away, like they were in another world. 

Thomas laid back, a little off the blanket with his wine glass balanced between his fingers above him. He turned his head to watch Newt choose another olive, closing his eyes at the feeling of the sunlight dripping down through the leaves above them. It was getting low now, on it's way west.

Thomas felt Newt staring at him, and opened his eyes, watched Newt flush as he got caught. 

"What?" He asked.

"You're so bloody handsome," Newt said, his eyes sliding down the curve of Thomas's neck to his chest and then back up to his face. 

Thomas's hand tingled as Newt took it. Thomas placed his glass safely on the picnic basket before returning the touch, lacing their fingers together.

The breeze picked up as the sun started it's slow decent in the sky.

Thomas inhaled deeply, smelling the warm grass and the hint of more rain on the way somewhere. He watched Newt's hair blow out of its careful style a little, falling across his forehead. 

He sat back up, and Newt glanced at him, staring at a point just behind him before breaking out in giggles. 

"Okay, what?" Thomas asked, turning to try to see what Newt was laughing at.

"Mate, you've got a grass stain all up your back."

Newt pulled the fabric of Thomas's shirt forward so he could see the green mark there behind his right shoulder.

"Aw, no!" Thomas whined, and Newt stifled another round of giggles. 

"So much for today being perfect. I'm such a mess," Thomas commented, unable to stop the smile that came at Newt's laughter.

"It's fine," Newt assured him, inspecting the stain, "It's pretty cute, actually." 

"The stain?" 

" _You_ , you dolt. My Tommy, all thumbs," Newt shook his head, grinning. 

_My Tommy._

Thomas pouted theatrically, leaning his head on Newt's shoulder, listening to his chuckles die down.

Dusk fell around them, the last of the day's heat turning the air sultry as the sky started to turn orange and purple. Thomas couldn't see any other people now. Little bugs had started to hover over the grass, and the breeze was getting cooler.

Thomas wasn't sure if it was the wine or the day making him bold, but he turned his head, heard Newt's breath catch as he nuzzled along his jawline. 

The sound pulsed through Thomas like a wave. 

He pressed a chaste kiss to the skin behind Newt's ear, trailing his lips down his neck, lingering there, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

Newt tilted his head back, opening up to him. Thomas could feel his throat vibrate as he moaned quietly, the sound of it going straight to his cock. 

Thomas pulled back, intending to restrain himself. He caught sight of Newt's face just inches from his own and stopped. 

Newt's dark eyes were wide, his lips parted, wet from the olive he had just eaten, stained in the middle just slightly from the red wine. His hair was awry from the wind, his collar undone and crooked. 

Thomas was sure he had never seen anyone so captivating in his entire life.

He looked into Newt's eyes, remembered all the times he had seen those eyes staring at him. On car rides across seats, in the dark at sleepovers, carefully monitoring during games and skittering away from him in locker rooms.

The kid he had played with and the teenager he had grown up with and the man he entrusted his whole life with.

Thomas reached up, touched Newt's cheek, cupping his face and sliding his thumb across the skin of his cheekbone gently. 

"Can I kiss you?" Thomas whispered.

Newt exhaled shakily, squeezed his hand where he still held it. 

"Please, Tommy..."

And, tilting his head, he pressed his lips to Newt's. 

The world stopped.

Thomas had never understood what people meant in songs and movies and books when they said that until now.

Everything around him faded: the breeze and the sunset and the annoying little bugs. 

Thomas couldn't feel or hear or taste anything that wasn't Newt. The whole world had bled away like a watercolor. 

Newt opened his mouth, licking along Thomas's lower lip gently, asking permission. 

Thomas groaned, pleasure zapping up his spine. He parted his lips, let Newt in, got lost in the give and take of it. Now there was only the feel of Newt and the taste of wine and olives and the smell of his aftershave.

Thomas had never been kissed like this before. It was real, natural, easy as breathing. He felt everything click into place, filling a hole in his chest he didn't know had been there.

It was all that, and it was Newt, and nothing else mattered.

They slowed after a while, pulling back, exchanging pecking kisses on each other's mouths as the world came back into focus.

Thomas opened his eyes first. Newt's eyes stayed closed for a moment, like he was reluctant to open them, before they met Thomas's.

They smiled. A breathless laugh left Thomas. 

" _Fuck_ ," he said, unable to sum it up any better than that. 

Newt ran a hand through Thomas's hair, gripping lightly and pulling him in to rest their foreheads together. 

"God, Tommy," he nearly moaned, "You've got no idea what you do to me."

Thomas responded by leaning in and kissing him again, closed mouthed but firm, his brow furrowing. 

"I think they're closing the gates," Newt mumbled against Thomas's lips.

"Probably," Thomas replied, kissing him again. 

Thomas couldn't care less if they got locked in here all night at that moment. He placed an open mouthed kiss to Newt's neck, getting uncomfortably hard in his too-tight jeans as he felt Newt arch against him. 

"Really, love," Newt said, his voice cracking, "I'd like not to get stuck out here overnight."

Newt looked like he'd quite happily stay there as long as Thomas kept this up. Thomas glanced up, noticing that dusk had turned the park a deep purple now, and they were alone. 

"Yeah, alright," Thomas finally agreed, prying himself away to start packing up. 

They moved quickly, grinning like trouble-making kids whenever they caught each other's eye, and made their way to the gate, making it just in time and slipping to their car.

Thomas threw everything haphazardly in the back seat, tossing the keys to Newt. 

Thomas clenched his hands into the armrest as Newt drove them back. His fingers dug into the leather so he wouldn't risk touching Newt, and then not stopping touching him, and making him crash the car.

Newt's face was calm, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, so maybe he was in the same boat. 

Thomas's phone buzzed, and he checked it surreptitiously.

 **From** : Brenda

_Phase 2 is a go. Ur key is under the mat. Hurry up b4 the place burns down ;D_

Thomas smirked, putting his phone away and ignoring Newt's inquiring glance. 

"You two conspiring again?" He asked. 

"Caught me," Thomas admitted, "I think you'll like this one though."

They made their way up to the apartment, Thomas skipping stairs and Newt looking like he was going to jump out of his skin. 

Thomas unlocked the door, but before he pushed it open, he walked behind Newt. 

"Come here," he said, putting his hands over Newt's eyes, "You trust me?" 

"I do," Newt said, his fingers lightly touching Thomas's hands, "God help me." 

Thomas chuckled, leading Newt through the door and using his foot to close it behind him. 

Brenda had knocked it out of the park with the instructions Thomas had texted her for all the stuff he had bought.

The lights were out, candles on almost every surface, bathing the whole room in a warm glow. The balloons were there, the cake lit and on the table, the obnoxiously large birthday banner Thomas knew Newt would think was ludicrous on the wall.

Thomas uncovered Newt's eyes. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust, and he watched Newt take in everything around him.

"Happy Birthday."

Newt turned to him, gaping, " _Tommy_..." he seemed unable to find the words as he looked around. 

Thomas took his hand, led him to the cake on the counter.

Chocolate with buttercream frosting, Newt's favorite. It was a little melted, a big "28" candle burning on it.

"Make a wish, baby," Thomas said, trying out the pet name and earning an adoring smile for it.

"Don't need to," Newt said, blowing out the candle.

They spent the night eating way too much cake, kissing sweet and sticky in between bites.

Thomas thought Newt was going to cry when he presented him with his gift: a book of sheet music for his guitar he'd been talking about for weeks. 

"I have to inform you, though," Thomas announced, bringing out two Nerf guns from behind the arm of the couch, grinning at Newt's eyes lighting up, "This birthday has stakes, old man." 

"Oh, you're on," Newt shot back, taking one of the guns with a flourish. 

They ran around, using the furniture as barriers, snorting and laughing too loudly as they shot at each other, feeling like kids again. 

Thomas had been right. 

It was absolutely perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:
> 
> Never Seen Anything "Quite Like You"- The Script
> 
> Favorite T-Shirt- Jake Scott


	8. Tomato Sauce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this chapter deals with explicit mentions of a minor character getting COVID-19 
> 
> Moving right along now (don't worry, this has a happy ending), but I couldn't resist a little conflict.

The week after Newt's birthday passed in a blissful blur.

They began to settle a bit into their new routine, feeling out the new change to their relationship. 

Thomas was surprised to find that not much had changed. They still had a solid foundation of friendship there, domestic comfort.

They were still _them_ , and Thomas was embarrassed to admit it relieved him. He knew this would change their dynamic, but he had been afraid of losing that. 

Thomas was still reeling at the fact that they could kiss and touch now, though. It was exciting, novel. 

Saturday night, Newt called Thomas into his room to join in a Skype call with Minho. They sat together on Newt's yellow bedspread, laptop open in front of them. 

Minho's blurry image came into view before the pixels went to where they should have been. He was sitting in his living room, looking like he had just ran a marathon. 

"Hey!" Minho greeted. 

"Hey, man!" Thomas greeted, "What were you doing, jumping rope in the attic?" 

Minho laughed, sounding exhausted, "No, just got off shift. It's insane down there."

Thomas nodded. Minho had gone to school for medicine, albeit mostly having to do with athletes, but now he had been rotating in to the hospital to help everyone out with the virus. Newt had said that he was pulling really long shifts this week.

"We can let you go and rest if you need," Newt said, sounding concerned. 

Minho waved a hand, "Nah, don't worry about it. I've got tomorrow off, so I'm in no hurry. Besides, I haven't talked with you guys in forever. How's it on your end?" 

"Same old, really. Still stuck at home, not doing much, world's going to shit," Thomas replied, smiling a little as he felt Newt hook his pinky into his own. 

"And you look way too cheerful about the whole thing. What's really up?" Minho observed. 

Minho had always been very intuitive, picking up on little things even if he didn't register them on a conscious level at first. He had an uncanny way of making Thomas feel like he could X-ray things with his eyes. 

He saw Newt glance at him in his peripherals, and then clear his throat. 

"Well, it's still a bit new, Min," Newt began, and then continued when he saw the small nod Thomas gave him, "But Tommy and I are together now." 

Minho looked surprised, but then quickly shook it off.

"Oh. Huh. I kinda figured something like that might happen eventually." 

"Min, _we_ didn't even know," Newt said, rolling his eyes. 

"Yeah, but you guys have always been super close, so I guess it doesn't surprise me much," Minho shrugged. 

"It doesn't?" Thomas piped up.

"Dude, it's 2020. If you guys are happy, who cares?" Minho said, then paused, "You _are_ happy, right?"

Thomas smiled at Newt, "Very much."

"Then I'm happy for you guys," Minho replied, his lips curling up, "I bet you've skipped straight to married already." 

"The Hell's that mean?" Newt asked. 

"Well, I mean, you already live with each other. You've known each other for like, a hundred years. Takes some of that getting-to-know-you stage out, huh?" 

"I guess so," Thomas said slowly. 

Minho nodded, then fixed Thomas with a hard stare, "You better take care of my boy, now. I don't care if you were his friend first, I'll kick your ass if you hurt him." 

"Deal," Thomas replied, as Newt scoffed. 

Minho had become friends with Newt first in college before getting to know Thomas. He and Newt had met while they both had some freshman level classes together, and had gotten along famously. 

Newt had introduced them, and though they hadn't been very close initially, after hanging out and bonding over a shared love of track and field and video games Thomas and Minho were now good friends.

He hadn't seen Minho much after he went away to graduate school, but it was always good to catch up like this. Thomas missed his guidance and strange, sometimes harsh wisdom.

The three of them chatted for a bit, catching up on what had been going on, purposely avoiding the viral elephant in the room, before Minho had announced that he needed to shower and sleep. They said goodnight, disconnecting the call.

"Well..." Newt began, trailing off. 

"One down, everyone else to go, I guess," Thomas finished, bringing their entwined hands up to plant a kiss on Newt's fingers. 

"Would have thought you'd be more reluctant about telling him," Newt commented, his tone casual as he searched Thomas's face. 

Thomas got the inkling that Newt was testing the waters with something, but he wasn't sure what about. 

"Why? Were you?" Thomas asked. 

"No," Newt said, "Just wondering if that's a thing were doing now." 

"I hope so," Thomas replied honestly, "I'm not going to hide you, Newt. I'm proud of this, I'm not scared." 

Newt looked relieved. He visibly relaxed.

"Good. Because I've dated people before who were, and that's not a whole lot of fun."

Thomas scooted over, pressed a kiss to Newt's cheek, gazing at the smile that broke across his face.

"It's still new for me, but I'm not ashamed of this," Thomas told him, "I just need a little time to figure out how to tell people." 

Newt nodded, playing with Thomas's hand in his own. He looked up and they locked eyes. 

"Well, we've got a lot of that, God knows. I've waited a lifetime for this. I'd tell everyone right now if I could, but let do it together, yeah?" Newt asked. 

"Together," Thomas agreed, smiling. 

Newt reached up and ruffled Thomas hair lightly.

"Good that. Now come on, I'm bloody starving." 

"You're always starving," Thomas laughed, "How's pasta sound?" 

"Divine," Newt said, taking Thomas's hand and leading him off the bed and down the hall to the kitchen. 

A little later, Thomas had almost finished the sauce, the smell of the tomatoes and basil warming the kitchen, when Newt came up and pinned him against the counter.

"Can't help myself," he admitted, tilting his head to kiss Thomas. 

They made out against the counter like teenagers, Newt's bony hips digging in almost painfully, his hands in Thomas's hair. 

Thomas's found himself smiling into it, heard Newt's huff of breathless laughter. Thomas nibbled at Newt's lips playfully, and it was difficult to keep kissing while smiling.

Thomas smelled Newt's skin, the herbs from the sauce, smoke.

 _Smoke_.

Thomas opened his eyes, pulling away to see the pot had plumes of black coming from it. 

"Oh, shit!" Thomas exclaimed, detaching himself from Newt quickly. 

Newt giggled as Thomas had frantically turned off the burner. The sauce was black around the edges, giving off acrid fumes. Newt let out a snort by accident, causing Thomas to join in his laughter. 

"I'll get some air in here," Newt announced, still laughing.

He went to the living room to open the windows as Thomas fanned the smoke away as best he could with a pot holder. 

Newt rolled his eyes as the smoke alarm went off, its high-pitched screech hurting Thomas's ears before it was cut off by Newt stretching up to take it down and yank its batteries out. 

"I've never done that before," Thomas said, his voice wobbling with amusement as he pointed an accusatory finger, "You are a fire hazard, sir." 

"Because of my kissing prowess?" Newt asked, flashing him a grin. 

"Nah, it's cause you're so _hot_ ," Thomas replied, unable to resist a crappy line. 

"Ugh, Tommy, no," Newt groaned, shaking his head, earning another cackle from Thomas. 

Newt set the smoke detector on the coffee table and walked back over, wrapping himself up in Thomas again, his eyes twinkling.

"Sorry I distracted you," Newt said, his expression telling Thomas he wasn't sorry at all. 

"I'm not," Thomas replied sincerely, his hands stroking Newt's hips, across his bare skin under his shirt. 

Newt's lips were blush-pink, puffy, and utterly tempting. His eyes were blown, his hair a ridiculous mess. He looked smaller than he was, drowning in one of Thomas's old shirts and smelling like him. 

Thomas couldn't remember being so enticed by anyone he had ever been with before. 

"God, you're beautiful," he told Newt, taking in every detail of his face.

"You think so?" Newt quipped, trying to cover his bashfulness at the compliment. 

"I do," Thomas assured.

He ran his hands up Newt's back, pulling him to his chest, holding him protectively there. 

"I'm so lucky," he whispered. 

Newt tucked his head into Thomas's chest, clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm the lucky one," Newt hummed, "Best mate I've fancied for years and now he's burning the pasta because he can't stop snogging me."

Thomas chuckled, stroking Newt's hair.

"I've never felt this way about anyone," Thomas commented, "And I know that's cliche, but I really haven't."

"Tell me," Newt asked, a smile in his voice. 

Thomas closed his eyes, swaying them slightly. He let the words flow, not worrying much if they made sense, just feeling.

"You're right, I can't stop kissing you. I don't ever want to. I keep kissing you because I want to make up for all the years I didn't," Thomas said, his voice quiet and sincere, "And I hate that you had to wait for me for so long, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it." 

Newt pulled back to look at him in astonishment, his eyes vulnerable. Thomas placed his hands on either side of Newt's face. Newt twisted his fingers in Thomas's shirt.

"You really sell yourself short when you say you don't know how to express yourself, Tommy," Newt said.

Thomas beamed, kissed Newt's forehead, feeling light and joyful.

"Thank you," Thomas said, then joked, "I rehearsed it for hours, you know." 

Newt smirked, "No you didn't. Know how I know?" 

"Hmm?"

"Because I know you. Inside and out. Better than anyone," Newt said simply, "And I know you would have stolen every line from _Love, Rosie_ if you had." 

Thomas laughed, setting Newt off again.

"Okay, you got me, but that's your fault for making me watch it with you." 

"Yeah, but I didn't make you get all misty about it," Newt teased.

"Hey, it's a tearjerker, okay?" 

Newt laughed, running his hand down Thomas's shoulder. Thomas spared a look at the mess on the stove.

"Guess dinner's screwed, gonna have to figure something else out."

Newt was on it, already typing something on his phone.

"I've got it, that taco place is still open. We've been getting a lot of takeaway but this is a good excuse," he said, finishing the order quickly. 

"Thanks," Thomas said, grateful. 

Newt pocketed his phone, studied Thomas and took his hand to lead him to the living room. 

Newt sat down on the sofa, pulling Thomas into his lap. Thomas straddled him playfully, watched his expression turn a little naughty.

"What?" Thomas asked, running his fingers through Newt's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. 

"We've got a while until it gets here. Could do with some fun until then," Newt said, his voice low and gravelly.

"What'd you have in mind?" Thomas flirted, waiting for Newt to make a move. 

Newt seemed to battle with himself, biting his lip.

"Sod it." 

Before Thomas could react, Newt grabbed him by the collar, pulled him in for a blistering kiss. 

Newt wasn't hesitant, not shy at all, didn't hold back.

He gripped Thomas hard, dragged his fingernails along his back as he kissed, parting Thomas's lips with his own and tasting him, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touched.

Thomas moaned, couldn't help it. Newt pressed the while length of his body to Thomas's chest, bit down on his lower lip just hard enough for it to hurt before soothing the pain with a suck. 

Thomas felt all the blood rush downward, his mind lighting up with the delicious possibilities of Newt being into pain, and a little thrown that he himself seemed to be as well. 

Newt noticed. 

"Like that, do you?" He asked, his voice thick and teasing. 

He licked his lips, leaned in to nip at Thomas's neck. Thomas tilted his head back, opening up for Newt, his fingers clenched in his hair and pulling harder than he intended as pleasure consumed him. 

Newt let out a moan himself, apparently enjoying the feeling of his hair getting pulled. The knowledge of that turned Thomas on so much he couldn't think clearly.

They shared a heated look, and were back at each other's mouths.

It was all Thomas could do to hold on, grip Newt back, try to give as good as he was getting. His cock was throbbing, pressing against Newt's stomach, and Thomas groaned when he felt Newt was hard too, the hot length of him digging in.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Thomas panted against Newt's mouth.

His hips bucked before he could stop himself, and Newt practically growled at that, the sound sending shivers up Thomas's spine.

Newt reached and pulled at Thomas's shirt, not enough to take it off but enough to expose his front. 

He leaned, pressing desperate, filthy kisses across Thomas's chest, the tip of his tongue licking a line down the center of his abs to his bellybutton. 

Thomas had no idea what sound he made at that, just that it was loud and breathy. He felt like his skin was on fire.

Newt looked up at him, the perfect mixture of turned-on and stunningly gorgeous and Thomas took a mental snapshot, wanting to savor it. Newt's fingers played at his waistband, dipping in a little. 

Newt's thigh started vibrating. He sighed, annoyed. 

It took Thomas until Newt bucked up, slid a hand into his pants, and threw something on the sofa next to him to realise it had been Newt's phone going off in his pocket. 

"Whoever that is can bugger off," Newt said, sounding irritated.

He resumed his kissing of Thomas's stomach, his lips trailing down to the V of his hips before Thomas opened his eyes unwittingly, and, blinking a few times, saw the name on Newt's phone. 

"Newt," Thomas tried, his voice completely wrecked. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Newt, hey." 

Newt hummed, not paying attention at all as he dug his teeth into Thomas's hip. Thomas reluctantly pulled away, and Newt looked up again, frustrated by the interruption.

"It's Janson," Thomas told him. 

Newt's brow furrowed. He stared at his phone, still ringing, Janson's name on the caller ID. 

"What the bloody Hell is he calling me about at this hour?" Newt wondered to himself out loud. 

He reached over, slid the green icon across the screen and held the phone to his ear. 

"Yes, hello?" He said, voice sounding amazingly professional even though he was still completely hard and his eyes were a little hazy. 

Thomas took a moment to calm himself, breathing deeply. He watched Newt's expression change as Janson's tinny voice came through the speaker. Thomas couldn't make out what he was saying, but judging from Newt's expression of mild panic, it wasn't anything good. 

Thomas climbed sideways off Newt's lap, feeling him wanting to straighten up. Thomas felt his own panic blossom as Newt listened intently. 

"Yes, sir, uh, just a moment. I'll find a pen," Newt said, making a writing gesture with his free hand as he shot a look at Thomas. 

Thomas scrambled up, quickly grabbing a pen from a mug on the TV stand, handing it to Newt. He grabbed a scrap receipt on the coffee table and started jotting things down, writing fast enough that Thomas couldn't see what it was.

There was more writing, a lot of "mhmms", and then a final "Yes, thank you, Mr. Janson. Three o' clock." before Newt hung up the call. 

Newt stared at his phone looking confused before he set it down on the table carefully. 

"What happened?" Thomas asked, reaching out and putting his hand over Newt's. 

"It's Alby," Newt replied, sounding shocked, "he's got it."

Thomas felt his stomach drop. He shook his head, brow furrowed, but Newt continued. His face was worried as he looked at Thomas. 

"Janson and Ava just asked me to step up in his place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:
> 
> Like No One Does- Jake Scott
> 
> I Won't Let You Go- James Morrison


	9. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little hurt/comfort for you in these trying times. 
> 
> I'm working on the next one, so keep an eye out! It might get steamy ;)

Rain came again.

Thick drops poured onto the balcony, gathering on the plants and dripping into their soil. Thunder cracked in the distance. It had been getting closer for a while now. 

Thomas sat, leaned back against his pillow, book in hand but he hadn't been paying much attention to it. His window was thrown wide, a fresh breeze circulating and helping to clear his head. Drops came spitting in occasionally, gathering on the windowsill, but he didn't mind.

He could hear Newt's voice in his own room. The door had been shut for hours now, and he was working harder than he ever had before.

Alby, as it turned out, had contracted the virus and was staying at home following a check-up. He was told there wasn't much they could do for him, and to wait for it to fizzle out on its own unless he couldn't breathe. Hospitals were packed enough as it was.

He had called Newt, made it sound like it was nothing, but if he was so sick that he couldn't even continue to work from home, then Thomas knew it was worse than he was saying. 

As the Assistant Marketing Director, Newt had been left to pick up his workload, and subsequently, work directly under his boss, Mr. Janson. Thomas knew that the added pressure was getting to Newt.

He could feel it getting ready to boil over, despite Newt's stubborn determination to keep going. 

The call had thrown both of them. Even with the news and reports coming in, countless people infected, it never seemed like someone they knew could get it. Being inside the apartment all the time, it seemed far away to Thomas. 

Newt's voice stopped, and Thomas looked up from his book as he heard Newt's door open, then close again. He heard him favoring his leg as he walked down the hallway to the living room. 

Thomas closed the book, got up and walked out of his room to join him. 

Newt was sitting on the sofa, writing something down in his work notepad, brow furrowed. He had bags under his eyes. Thomas felt a pang for him. It broke his heart to see Newt so worn down.

"Hey," Thomas greeted. 

Newt looked up, offered a tired smile, "Hi. Sorry, just finished." 

"It's okay," Thomas said, sitting down next to him, thighs touching, "you alright?" 

Newt exhaled deeply, ran a hand through his hair, "Just a bit overwhelmed is all. Alby did a lot more than I thought." 

Thomas put his arm around Newt, who leaned his head against his shoulder. Thomas rubbed Newt's arm until he felt him relax a little.

"He's gonna be okay, you know?" Thomas murmured. 

"I know," Newt replied, "He'll pull through. He _better_." 

Thomas knew that Newt and Alby had been close ever since they had started working together. Alby had helped Newt get the job, in fact. It was a relationship built on mutual respect and professionalism, but it was also one built on trust.

"Seems like the year just won't let up," Newt commented, his voice cracking. 

Thomas kissed his forehead, trying to comfort and soothe as best he could. Newt shifted, stretching out and rolling his ankle a little. 

"Your leg okay?" Thomas asked.

"Bloody rain is all. Makes it hurt more," Newt grumbled, "Sorry. Bit of a bad one today." 

Newt had always said that as almost a warning to Thomas about his occasional gloomy moods. He knew Newt had been managing a lot better, especially lately, but that's exactly what it was: constant management, physically, emotionally, and mentally. 

It had taken Thomas a while to realize that he couldn't love or care Newt's depression away, and constant doting just tended to make Newt angry. Newt was strong, stronger than anyone Thomas knew, and he hated feeling like anyone saw him as weak.

Thomas had done a lot of research on it in the years following Newt breaking his leg. He had refined how he approached it, but he had never shied away from it. 

"I'm here," Thomas mumbled into Newt's hair, "You need anything, I'm here."

"Thanks, Tommy. Really," Newt replied.

They sat there, letting the peaceful sound of the rain fill the silence.

"You'd think I would have gotten better at this," Newt said gloomily, "Just exhausted from having the same bloody problem all the time."

"I know," Thomas said, "It's not your fault, though." 

That was the worst part: feeling helpless. Thomas so desperately wanted to be able to wave a magic wand and help but he knew he couldn't. He held Newt close, pouring as much comfort as he could into the gesture. 

"I just..." Newt began, his shoulders raising in a shrug.

"Do you need space?" Thomas asked, not wanting to be overbearing or suffocating.

"I think...I think that's the last thing I need," Newt said slowly, looking up and meeting Thomas's gaze, "I just want out of my head for a bit."

Thomas smiled, "That I can do. Come on," 

He stood up, held out his hands. Newt took them, let himself be guided down the hallway.

"Come here," Thomas said gently, opening the bathroom door, "How about a bath?"

Newts face broke into a small smile. He nodded as he sat on the closed toilet seat. 

Thomas dug around under the sink until he found their half-empty bottle of bubble bath, and busied himself by turning on the taps, testing until the water was perfect before adding it. The smell of vanilla began to fill the humid air. 

He grabbed some candles from his bedroom, came back and lit them, placing them carefully around the edges of the tub. Newt watched him, his eyes tired. 

When the water level was high enough, Thomas turned off the taps, and then the overhead light.

"There," he said, "now it's not so bright." 

He stood back, intending to leave so Newt could have some privacy. He turned when Newt caught his wrist briefly.

"Would you stay this time?" He asked, his face vulnerable. 

Newt didn't wait for an answer, already taking his clothes off. Thomas looked away instinctively as he stripped naked, only looking again when he was obscured in bubbles.

He sat there in the water, steam making his skin shiny, arms around his knees. He then winced, opting for stretching his bad leg out. He suddenly looked very young. 

Thomas kneeled on the bath mat, setting his arms on the edge of the tub. He watched Newt in silence, watched the haunted look in his eyes, illuminated by the candlelight.

"Sorry," Newt said, a humorless smile flashing across his face, "Not much company." 

"Don't worry about me," Thomas replied, reaching slowly under the water to find Newt's ankle, rubbing as gently as he could. He could feel the knots there, ones that he could never erase. 

Newt didn't close up at all, like Thomas expected. He hadn't touched Newt's leg like this since it had been in a cast. Newt was staring at Thomas openly, allowing himself to be touched, unguarded and trusting. Thomas's heart swelled.

"I'm here," Thomas repeated, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of Newt's hair away, "I'm not going anywhere." 

"Always caring for me. Must be tiring." 

"Not to me. You're not a burden, Newt," Thomas insisted, "And you take care of me, too." 

Newt looked up then, his eyes hard and serious. Thomas could see the determination all across his face, and he held his breath unconsciously.

"I love you, Tommy," Newt said, his voice low, "I'm in love with you. And I know this isn't the moment to say it, but I want you to know." 

Thomas felt his heart stutter. He let out his breath, took Newt's hand under the water. 

"I love you, too," he replied, feeling it pouring from every inch of his body at that moment, "So much." 

"No matter what?" Newt half-joked, his hands clenching.

"No matter what, good or bad," Thomas repeated, "I love you, Newt, and whatever you're going through, I'll be here for you. I know this is your fight, but I'm in your corner. For as long as you want."

Newt smiled genuinely then, looking down, twisting their fingers together. 

"I'm afraid I'm going to want you for a long time." 

"Good. Because I will, too."

They held each others gazes, and Newt looked so trusting that Thomas wanted to pick him up and hold him tight, never let him go.

"Hey, Newt?" 

"Hmm?"

"You remember when we said we'd be best friends forever?" 

Newt smiled, looking far away for a moment. 

"Of course I do," he replied, "You were, what, seven? I remember we were on that camping trip with your family. Rained every bloody day, too." 

Thomas chuckled, "I know. The mud was awful. And then you hurt your hand."

"Yeah, on that stupid branch when we were trying to get the kayak out," Newt added. 

"I saw all that blood and I lost my mind," Thomas laughed, "I thought you were gonna get tetanus or something. And I tore that stupid RV up to get the first-aid kit. My dad was so mad."

Newt laughed quietly at the memory, shaking his head.

"Thought Patrick was going to kill you. The state of that kitchenette." 

"And I held your hand, and apologized every time it hurt, cleaned you up," Thomas said.

He rubbed Newt's arm tenderly, squeezing his shoulder.

"And I knew right then that I cared about you more than anyone else in the world, Newt. I'd have done anything for you, just to get you to stop crying."

Newt's eyes welled up then. He tucked his face into his shoulder, pinning Thomas's hand there. 

"And I still will, baby. I promise."

Newt closed his eyes, turning to kiss Thomas's fingers. Thomas got up on his knees, leaning in slowly, letting Newt come to him. 

Newt met him halfway, their lips pressing together chastly, softly. Thomas held Newt, tried to tell him how much he loved him with just this. 

They pulled away to share breath, being still, neither wanting break the calm. 

The rain was soft, pattering on the roof, muffled by the enclosed bathroom. It was so quiet Thomas could hear the bubbles making little fizzing noises, the drip of water from the faucet, Newt's slow breathing. 

Newt shifted a little.

"Getting cold?" Thomas guessed, felt Newt nod. 

"Okay. How about some tea?" 

Newt hummed his agreement, stood up and accepted the towel Thomas wrapped around him.

"I'll get it started," Thomas said.

A bit later, Thomas hand the two mugs full, teabags in and steeping. He turned and saw Newt standing there, in pajama pants and one of Thomas's hoodies, hair frizzy.

"Feeling better?" He asked, handing Newt his mug.

"A bit," Newt said, bobbing his teabag, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

They sat on the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets, side by side, sipping their tea for what seemed like a long time. It was peaceful. 

The rain was slowing, echoing drips off the banisters and the gutters, making smacking noises as it hit the pavement outside.

Newt huffed out of his nose. 

"Bit funny isn't it?" 

"What is?" 

Newt gestured between them, "Us. Always there, but never doing anything about it until now. Like some destiny or something." 

"Maybe it is," Thomas said, "I mean, everything we've ever done led us to this, right?" 

"Suppose so," Newt allowed, taking another sip. 

"I don't know if I believe in destiny," Thomas said, circling his finger around the rim of his mug, "But I know I'm supposed to be here."

They shared a smile. Thomas set his mug down on the floor. 

"Reckon it doesn't matter really, whether destiny's real or not," Newt mused, "It got us here, and that's what matters." 

Thomas smiled as Newt kissed his cheek. 

"You're damn right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:
> 
> Can't Help Falling In Love- Kinna Granis (cover)
> 
> Still The One- The Maine (cover)


	10. Herbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Is that summer heat on the way, or is it these two?
> 
> A little steamy and sweet one for you! Enjoy and thank you for your feedback!

The rain broke, giving way to the first tendrils of summer heat as they neared June. 

Thomas had been sweating lightly throughout the day, and Newt's hair had gone limp from the heat. Thomas could tell it was only going to get more stifling from here. 

Thomas frowned, studying the glitchy display on Newt's laptop before sighing, pulling at his hair. The warm weather made his brain foggy. 

"I broke it, yeah?" Newt asked, standing next to him with his arms crossed, frowning.

"No, you're fine, the driver update is just running slower than I thought," Thomas assured him. 

"I've got no idea what that is, but it doesn't sound good," Newt replied. 

Thomas concentrated, troubleshooting for Newt. He learned a long time ago that Newt was less than computer savvy and hadn't seen the point in replacing his laptop in a good while. 

Thomas had become accustomed to Newt coming into whatever room he was in and saying his laptop was "doing it again" ("it" involving several different things at any given time) and dragging Thomas to help him.

Thomas was good with computers. Teresa had even called him "great" with them a few times. He had taken a few classes involving them in college, and they had turned out to be some of the few classes he didn't despise. 

It made sense to him, an easy problem with trial and error solutions. It was almost peaceful to work out their issues, in fact. 

"At least it's not the sound this time," Newt commented. 

Thomas snorted, "Yeah, that was pretty funny, though." 

About a month ago Newt's audio processor had torn itself a new one, resulting in the equally hilarious and terrifying outcome of his volume shooting itself to maximum and getting stuck there. He had, unfortunately, had headphones in at the time. Thomas remembered the blaring music and Newt's yelp fondly. 

"Shut it," Newt said, scowling, biting the inside of his cheek against a smile.

Thomas kept tinkering away, with Newt commenting occasionally, until finally, the laptop display went back to normal. Thomas let out a triumphant whoop, laughing at Newt's amused expression.

"Cheers," Newt said, "Don't know what I'd have done with Alby gone and this acting up." 

"How's he doing, by the way?"

"He's alright. Still ill, but he reckons he's at the end of it," Newt said, then paused, "You know, you're really good at this computer stuff, Tommy."

"It was just a basic issue," Thomas shrugged. 

"Yeah, but really. You are," Newt insisted. 

Thomas bit his nails, "Sometimes I think I should go back and get a degree in it." 

Newt leaned over, rested his chin on Thomas's shoulder from behind, wrapping his arms around him.

"If that's what you want. I think you'd be good at it," Newt murmured.

Thomas grasped Newt's arms, sinking back into his embrace. 

"Yeah? You gonna help me study," Thomas joked.

"Of course," Newt replied easily, "I'll always help. Or try to, anyway, I'm not good at this myself." 

Newt planted a kiss in Thomas's hair, and Thomas suddenly felt safer than he had in a long time. 

Thomas's parents had not-so-subtley steered him toward his degree path during college, and he hadn't realized how much it had affected him until recently. They had been well-meaning, presenting it as a logical and practical field, but it had seemed like they couldn't understand that Thomas didn't want to go into business. 

Having Newt be his rock, there to support him, meant more to him than he could express. 

"Thank you," Thomas said, turning his head to look at Newt. 

"Welcome," Newt said, kissing him again, softly on the lips this time. 

Thomas inhaled his scent, relaxing into it. Newt felt so good. Safe, comforting, secure. Like he was tethering Thomas to the Earth. 

"Love you," Thomas said against his lips, feeling him smile. 

"I love you, too," Newt replied, squeezing him in his arms. 

Thomas would have been content to just sit there, entwined with Newt, for as long as he could. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and letting the feeling of security wash over him.

"Gotta have a shower," Newt mumbled reluctantly after a while.

Thomas gripped him tighter, pouting, "No. Stay and be musty with me."

Newt laughed, "You're disgusting."

"What, I can't like the smell of my sweaty boyfriend?" Thomas joked, cackling as Newt wrinkled his nose. 

Boyfriend. 

Thomas watched Newt laugh at him, realizing that it was the first time either of them had labelled the relationship.

"Not when said boyfriend hasn't washed," Newt informed him. 

Thomas lit up at the repeated word. He tightened his arms briefly before releasing Newt. 

"Alright, go wash then," Thomas said. 

He snickered as Newt made an undignified sound when Thomas playfully smacked his ass on the way out the door. 

Thomas swung his legs out and got up, heading down the hall to the living room, hearing the shower turn on.

The sun had set, and the air was cooler now, a welcome break from the heat. Thomas opened the balcony door, opting to lay on his back on the floor below it and catch the cross-breeze there. It smelled like the herbs that were just starting to bloom in their pots on the railing, the scent fresh and sweet.

He lay there, feeling refreshed from the cool air and looking up funny things on his phone until Newt came and joined him, smelling clean and warm. 

"Anything interesting?" Newt asked, laying on his back next to him, sighing at the feeling. 

Thomas felt the bubble of mirth coming up in his throat, trying to focus on the phone screen in front of him. 

"Why does he look like that?" Thomas laughed, showing a picture of a funky-looking dog to Newt, who was shaking with silent laughter. 

"Looks like he's got no neck," Newt said, causing a round of giggles. 

Their humor slowly began to die down as Thomas scrolled, both of them occasionally letting out another hysterical chuckle. He felt lightheaded.

"Fucking Hell," Newt said, smiling hugely, "What is wrong with us?" 

"So much," Thomas replied. 

"Least we can be proper idiots together," Newt said, laying on his side and propping himself up on one elbow. 

"I hope we never stop being idiots together," Thomas said, rolling to face Newt, echoing his grin. 

"I'm sure we'll manage that just fine," Newt said fondly, stroking his hand up Thomas's arm.

"Mmhmm." 

Newt bit his lower lip around a smile, looking up at Thomas through his lashes. Thomas followed the sudden impulse to kiss, scooting over and indulging. 

Newt hummed contentedly, pulling Thomas in closer, opened his mouth for a deeper kiss. Thomas licked along his lips, the tip of his tongue, tasting the earthy tang of the tea Newt had drank a few hours ago despite the heat, and _wanted_. 

Newt moaned into the kiss, the sound sending fire down Thomas's spine, and he followed him until Newt was hovering over him, pressing him into the carpet. 

They never broke contact, kissing until Thomas's head was spinning. 

Newt's hands crept up his shirt, touching hesitantly until Thomas arched, giving him an enthusiastic, non-verbal "yes". Thomas returned the touch, sliding his hands across Newt's hips and sides, enjoying the warmth and softness there. 

"Off, off," Thomas said frantically, pulling at his own shirt. 

He bowed his back, helping Newt slide it up and over his head in a fumbly motion. Newt sat back, pulling his own shirt off and throwing it in the general direction of the sofa. 

Thomas took a moment to relish the view of Newt's slender body, his long muscles moving under his skin before he dove back in, pulling Newt down on top of him and kissing heatedly. 

The contact of their skin was electric, sending those tingles across Thomas's limbs, more intense now than they'd ever been. 

He noticed how different it was: a flat chest, slight stubble against his face, hard cock pressing into his own. Newt was harder, heavier, and more masculine instead of what Thomas was used to, but he was decidedly comfortable with it.

"Tommy," Newt groaned in his ear, his fingers shaking as he toyed with Thomas's waistband, "You've got to tell me, tell me you want this." 

"I do," Thomas sighed, kissing Newt's neck, "Just...how far...what are we doing?" 

"Anything you want, however far. Just want to touch you," Newt said, nibbling Thomas's earlobe. 

"God, yes," Thomas moaned, his back bowing again, trying to press him closer to Newt, flush against his body. 

Newt smiled against his cheek, kissing him again briefly before he reached down, snapping the waistband of Thomas's pajamas playfully. 

"My hands sound alright?" Newt asked, his face happy but his eyes serious. 

Thomas nearly moaned at the imagery that flashed through his mind then.

"Sounds so good, Newt, please." 

Newt gripped the fabric, and Thomas raised his hips, and there was an awkward moment of struggling to pull his pants down that almost resulted in Newt falling off of him and started Thomas laughing again before he could stop himself.

"I'm sorry," he said, covering his mouth.

Newt snorted, trying to hold his composure as he leveled a fond scowl at Thomas, scooting back and straddling his thighs.

"Not exactly the reaction a bloke wants, mate," he said, voice cracking as he held back a laugh. 

"It's fine, baby, you're fine," Thomas assured, smoothing his hands down Newt's forearms as he regained himself. 

Newt gazed down then, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of Thomas naked under him, cock hard and throbbing as it lay against his belly. 

"God, Tommy, look at you," Newt murmured, trailing his fingertips down Thomas's side. 

He watched Newt clamp his teeth down on his lower lip, felt the heat rise up in his neck and chest from the rapt attention.

"So bloody _pretty_ ," Newt said, seemingly mesmerized. 

His fingers inched closer, painting trails across Thomas's hips and leaving goosebumps. Thomas couldn't keep himself still, every inch of him clenching and unclenching reflexively. 

"Please, touch me, please," Thomas begged finally, his cock hurting a little with how hard he was. His tip left a wet, sticky patch under his belly button as it twitched upward. 

"I've got you, love," Newt soothed, voice low as he teased around Thomas's cock, "Gonna make you feel good." 

He started caressing, stroking right where Thomas wanted him, and Thomas nearly hit the ceiling with how good it felt, little waves of pleasure radiating out across his limbs as he made a highly embarrassing noise at Newt's touch.

"Oh, _fuck_ , oh Newt," Thomas moaned, his hips wanting to come up but unable to from Newt's weight pinning him down. 

He found he liked it, whether the weight or restraint or a little of both, but then Newt pulled off, licked his palm, and did something twisty with his hand and suddenly Thomas couldn't think of anything at all. They locked eyes as Thomas forced his gaze upward. 

Newt was enraptured, watching every reaction, studying exactly what Thomas liked. His eyes were blown, lips swollen and red, and Thomas had to look away from the sight of his gorgeous hands pumping his cock, feeling the knife's-edge right behind his teeth mortifyingly quickly. 

It had been so long since anyone but himself had touched him, and combined with the fact that it was Newt, Thomas felt everything like he was rubbed raw. The pleasure was almost too good at times, riding the delicious edge of painful. 

He gripped the carpet until his fingernails hurt, unable to stop how vocal he was being.

Newt looked like he thoroughly enjoyed it, palming his own cock through his pants as he worked Thomas right to the edge. His stomach dropped, and he felt that familiar rush coming toward him.

"Wait," Thomas pleaded, gripping Newt's wrist to stop him.

"You alright?" Newt asked, concern cutting through the lust in his eyes. 

"Yeah. About to make me come," Thomas choked out, "But I wanna touch you, too." 

Newt smiled, eyes hazy, and rose up to pull his pajamas down just far enough to take his cock out.

All the air in Thomas's lungs rushed out as he stared.

Newt was flushed pink, a little longer than Thomas but maybe not as thick. He had forgotten Newt was uncut until then, his tip shiny and smoother than Thomas's own. 

He could see why Newt had said "pretty". 

He looked much more sensitive, though, and Thomas was afraid of hurting him by doing something wrong, so he held out his hand. 

"Show me," Thomas said, "Show me what you like." 

Newt took his hand gently, and Thomas reeled as he put it to his cock, squeezing around the base, harder than Thomas would have expected. Newt moaned, tipping his head back as Thomas touched him tentatively. The skin was hot, pulsing with his heartbeat, soft like velvet. 

"Just like that, love, yeah," Newt encouraged, showing Thomas how to pull and push, the head of his cock slipping in and out of its cover, starting to leak.

Thomas quickly learned, stroking Newt exactly like he'd been shown, losing his rhythm momentarily as Newt started touching him again too. 

They played with each other, Thomas moaning probably too loudly and Newt letting out little breathy _"oh"s_ like a mantra. Newt's free hand reached out, grasping Thomas's, intertwining their fingers together. 

Thomas's hand was cramping from the angle, and Newts waistband kept getting in the way, and the carpet burned into Thomas's back but he didn't care. 

He wanted to make Newt moan like this, make him come, see him lose control so badly it was drowning everything else out. 

"Tommy," Newt cried out breathlessly, hips bucking as he fucked Thomas's fist, "I'm gonna come." 

Those words got Thomas rushing right up to the edge, his cock leaking a steady stream of precum as he locked eyes with Newt. 

"Oh, God, me too," Thomas managed to groan before he tipped right over the edge.

His whole body arched, thighs shaking as he spilled in hot, trembly waves of pleasure, all over Newt's hand and his own stomach. Thomas willed his eyelids to stay open even in his own ecstacy, wanting to watch Newt follow.

Newt came, shooting out over Thomas's stomach and cock, mixing with the mess there. His body spasmed, eyes rolling back, his noises almost surprised sounding, and Thomas watched him fall apart in awe.

They worked each other through the aftershocks, hands gentle, slowing. Thomas's breathing came back to normal. Newt still had his eyes closed, looking heartbreakingly beautiful.

"God, Newt, you're so..." Thomas trailed off, his voice a mess as he couldn't find the words. 

"Fuck, that was so good, Tommy," Newt groaned blissfully, his eyelids heavy as he looked at Thomas. 

"Yeah," Thomas agreed, leaning up as Newt folded forward to kiss him, keeping a careful distance between the mess they made and their bodies. 

They kissed softly, almost lazily for a while. The room was much cooler now, smelled like heat and sex and sweat and he couldn't get enough of it. They pulled apart slowly, and Thomas noticed the air had started to dry the come on his stomach uncomfortably. 

"I'll get something, hang on," Newt said, standing up on wobbly legs and being careful to keep his pants away from his own mess as he walked to the kitchen. 

Thomas relaxed in the afterglow, all the tension leaking out of him, making him feel warm and a little sleepy. 

Newt came back with two damp paper towels, cleaning himself before kneeling to gently wipe across Thomas's stomach, cleaning him carefully. 

"I love you, God, I love you," Thomas said as he watched Newt care for him. 

He received a fevered kiss in return, a sweet smile on Newt's lips as he replied, "I love you, too. I adore you, in fact." 

"Yeah?" 

"I really do." 

Newt sat crossed legged, absently playing with Thomas's hand. He looked more relaxed than Thomas has seen him in forever. 

They gazed happily at each other, and Thomas rolled on his side, feeling the carpet burns on his back and ass and not caring in the slightest.

"What're you thinking about?" Thomas asked, rubbing Newt's fingernails with his thumb.

"How I'd like to keep you," Newt replied, his voice tender, "Until we're old and grey and losing our teeth."

Thomas smiled, "Yeah, okay, but I'm not helping you change your diaper when we're ancient." 

Newt laughed, the sound carefree and loud, making Thomas join in.

"Fat lot of help you are!" Newt said fondly. 

Thomas scooted over until his head was in Newt's lap. He felt good, naked and exposed and not in the least bit uncomfortable about it. 

"You can keep me as long as you want," he said, staring up at Newt. 

"I'm yours, you know that, Tommy?" Newt said, his eyes sweet and open, "Completely. In every way, not just this one. Though this was good," he added, grinning. 

"I love you, too," Thomas replied, reading Newt like a book. 

They got cleaned up, redressing and opting to lay on the sofa together, pressed close on their sides, intimate and safe. Like their own oasis. 

They talked and laughed until Thomas felt his eyelids getting heavy. He was about to suggest going to bed when Newt sensed it and stopped him.

"Just stay," he whispered, "sleep here with me." 

Thomas nodded, smiling lazily, and closed his eyes. Newt rested his forehead on Thomas's, sighing. The sofa wasnt nearly big enough, and Thomas knew his back would regret it in the morning, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

"I think you're my soulmate, Tommy," Thomas thought he heard Newt say quietly as sleep curled around the edges of his brain.

"Thought you didn't believe in those," he slurred back.

Newt paused, kissing the tip of Thomas's nose.

"I do now."

Thomas fell asleep smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ILYSB- LANY
> 
> Sugar High- Chappell Roan


End file.
